


Contour. Shadow. Highlight. Smudge.

by perclexed



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Community: smallfandombang, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Kink, Post-Season/Series 08, Undercover, Unresolved Sexual Tension, culmination of eight seasons of flirting, new phase to their relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-06-05 03:43:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 29,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6687853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perclexed/pseuds/perclexed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Secret talents are revealed when Lewis and Hathaway are asked to consult on a case outside their usual realm of responsibility.  A troubling string of assaults have the dynamic duo going undercover at a local art class in an effort to suss out the perpetrator.  James may be the one stripping off in the name of art, but Robbie realizes as the case progresses that he's at risk of exposing something far more intimate - his growing feelings for his former sergeant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am nothing without my beta reader Tehomet. You guys have no idea how hard she works to make my words readable. She is a priestess of the red pen, and I would offer up tributes of flowers and chocolates every day if I could in thanks for her help.
> 
> HUGE thanks also to Somniare and mrsjohn for holding my hand and cheering me on. The past few months have been difficult, to say the least, and it was a Herculean effort to finish this story in time for my posting date. I couldn't have done it without them.
> 
> Last but not least, [zomg the art by knowmefirst](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6700345)! *squee!* ART y'all. *chinhands and gazes* Awww, yeah. (Link TBD)

“Ah, Robbie.  Have you got a moment?”  Innocent’s nearly run him over in the corridor outside her office, but she thanks him for the steadying hand as she almost topples off her heels at their unexpected encounter.

“For you , ma’am?  Always.”  He puts on his very best cheeky grin and she rolls her eyes at him as they walk past her assistant and into the dragon’s lair.  

He wasn’t expecting Hathaway to be lounging in one of the chairs in front of her desk, though, and smiles warmly at his friend.  “James.”

“Robert,” Hathaway nods, smiling slightly.  His former sergeant, now a Detective Inspector in his own right, looks tired, but well.

“Gentlemen,” Innocent says as she seats herself in her desk chair with a sigh.  “Just to confirm, neither of you are on active cases at the moment, correct?”

“Maddox and I are wrapping up the paperwork for the Larson case, ma’am,” Hathaway says.  

Robbie nods thoughtfully.  “I’ve been assisting Grainger with their string of armed robberies, but nothing that they couldn’t handle on their own at this point.  Did you need us for a case?”  He feels a little thrill at the thought.  It’s been a while since the Graham Lawrie fiasco, which had rather knocked all of them back on their heels a bit, though they’d come out on top in the end.  Maddox is back at work, and should be cleared for full duty again next week.  It’s been a bit of a slog for her, but she’s healed well and is chomping at the bit to get back to proper policework.

Innocent, however, surprises him with her next question.  “Do you remember when I had everyone take an Open University class a few years ago?”

Simultaneous snorts of amusement are their initial response.  Her glare, however, prompts Hathaway to clear his throat and smoothly say, “Yes, ma’am.  I did an online course on Middle English literature.”

“Of course you did,” Robbie mutters, not quietly enough given James’ raised eyebrow and Innocent’s pointed stare.  He clears his throat and confesses.  “Art class, ma’am.  Introduction to drawing and the like.”  He scowls at the smirk he can see forming on James’ face.  “I would’ve taken Latin, seeing as how it might have been useful for our cases, but the course was full at the time.  And I had me own walking translator for all that,” he says to Innocent, tilting his head towards his Hathaway.

“Better than an American Express card,” Innocent says.

“Ma’am?” James sounds confused.

“Never leave home without him,” she says to Lewis, and they both smile at the light blush suddenly visible on James’ face.

“Did you keep up with your sketching, Robbie?”  Now why on earth is she asking that?

“Not really, ma’am.  It was actually fairly enjoyable, once the class started,” he says, thinking he was mostly glad he’d picked something that didn’t require a lot of mental energy.  Middle English literature.  The things the lad considers fun.  “Mostly just use it doodling little things on cards sent to our Lyn and me grandson, these days.”

He doesn’t tell them about the introductory painting class he and Val had taken one year when she was on her ‘self-improvement’ kick.  He’d missed more than half the classes of course, given he’d been working with Morse at the time, but she’d been delighted to spend some time with him when he could make the sessions.  She’d enjoyed it, and had been pretty good at it.  He’d enjoyed the feel of the thick paint spreading across the canvas, but really he’d gone to watch his wife relax into something she found delightful. 

That weekend when the kids had spent having sleepovers at their friends’ houses hadn’t hurt either.  He still chuckles at the phrase, “happy little trees”, given Val had said it in a sing song voice as she’d painted a line down his cock with the edible body paint she’d sourced from god only knows where.

He’s pulled out of his reminiscing by Innocent's throat clearing.  “I was wondering if the two of you would be willing to help on one of DI Laxton’s cases,” Innocent says as she hands over a couple of thick files.  “Thanks to DS Lockhart, we’ve managed to find a single common thread in a string of cold cases going back over three years.”

Robbie smiles, thinking that they’d done well with Julie while she’d been assigned to their team.  She’d worked very, very hard on her Sergeant’s exam prep, and had actually taken him up on his offhand comment to look him up if she needed any help after he’d retired.  They’d met a couple of times for a pint and some coaching, and he’d been charmed by her focus and determination to pass on her first try.

And she had.  She’d invited him to her celebratory drinks party, and he’d been rather embarrassed by her effusive thanks and those of her parents.  Julie was a good officer, and will make a cracking detective.  Laura had been delighted to take the piss out of him about it, actually.  “Nice to know you’ve got options other than James if you trade me in for a younger model,” she’d teased him.

Robbie hadn’t found it all that funny at the time.  Not just because Julie was so young and really rather too sweet for him, but also because he hadn’t heard from James in months, at that time.    

Innocent’s voice brings him back into the conversation at hand, again.  “I know you’ve planned for a weekend off, but we could use your assistance.  There’s no consistency with the type of assault, or the weapons involved.  But all the victims had a single thing in common — they’d all taken a continuing education art class.  And the attacks are escalating.  The last three have involved drugs and two of the victims had been raped.”  That would explain Laxton’s involvement.    

Robbie had worried, a bit, when Julie had mentioned her new DI, but she’d assured him she could handle it.  “I started taking Krav Maga after the Amy Katz case.  Do you remember that incident on the staircase? I actually just passed my Graduate Level 1 exam, though obviously I haven’t the time to teach.  And I really want to help the victims for these cases.”  He’d seen a steely sort of resolve in her that was new to him, but lent a certain gravity to her overall demeanour that was a nice counterbalance to her slight stature.

Then she’d asked with a cheeky twinkle, “Want to go a round or two with me, sir?”

He’d demurred and bought her a pint, instead.  And she had kindly ignored the blush the mild innuendo had provoked.

Hathaway is flipping through the file.  “Sculpture, stained glass, watercolours.  There’s even a basketweaving class in here.”

“There’s a life model drawing class starting in two days.  You two are the only free detectives on the rota right now, and I was wondering if you’d be willing to go undercover and see if anything stands out to you.  James, unless you’ve been hiding an exceptional talent for art under that enigmatic exterior, I thought you could be the model?”

“Alas, no ma’am.  You’ve seen my handwriting,” he says with typical self-deprecation.

“Thought not,” she says, though she does it with a smile.  Robbie knows there’s a reason Hathaway usually types everything, be it on a keyboard or the damnably small buttons on his phone.  “You, James, are filling in for a friend who had a family emergency but didn’t want to leave the class without a model.  Robbie, you’re okay with attending the class?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.  You can be a retiree trying out a few different things to see what captures your interest.  I know it’s not going to produce anything like a canoe in the garden,” she says, voice growing louder over the sound of Hathaway snickering, “But perhaps you’ll get something out of it anyway. Details are at the back of the files, though we’ve left you plenty of room to make up your own backgrounds.  Luckily it’s a short class.  Three sessions in just over a week, and it won’t be a holiday.  You’ll feed information back to Laxton’s team for follow up.  I don’t want to see either of you in here on the off chance the perpetrator might identify either of you as police officers.  If, for some reason someone does recognize you, acknowledge that you used to be police but you’ve moved on.  You’ve both been on the television enough that you might be recognized.

“Hathaway, will there be any issues with the, shall we say, ‘wardrobe requirements’ for the class sessions, particularly the last?  If so, tell me now and I’ll see if there’s another DI available.”

James flips to the relevant section in his file and raises an eyebrow.  “No, ma’am.  It’s just a few hours.  I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Liaise with Laxton and make sure she passes the word about that you’re undercover.  Don’t take any unnecessary risks. Try being sensible for a change?  The pattern of escalation is troubling, and I’d really rather not lose either of you.”

“Why ma’am, you really do care,” James says, cheekily.

Innocent gives him a look.  “The paperwork, Hathaway, is tedious, and something I’d rather not have to deal with, if it’s all the same to you.”

James affects a wounded look and Robbie rolls his eyes.  “C’mon, boy wonder.  Let’s retreat to the Batcave and review the files.  Ma’am,” he says to Innocent as he rises. 

“The Batcave?” James asks as they make their way back to DI Hathaway’s office.  “Is that what you’re calling your new flat?” 

“It’s not mine, it’s a sublet, and unfortunately it didn’t come with a butler,” Robbie says. 

James hasn’t asked, though he’s obviously aware that Robbie and Laura called it quits weeks ago.  And Robbie’s honestly not sure what to tell him about his break up with Laura.  

***** 

He’d been a bit taken aback when she’d turned to him over dinner one night, reaching for his hand and saying, “Robbie, we need to talk.” 

“That bad?” he says faintly. Sure the edges are a little dark, though he’d thought Laura’s mumbling about ‘Cajun again?’ had been unwarranted. “You know those are four words that strike fear in the heart of any man, every time,” he’d joked weakly, though he’d felt a horrible, growing certainty in the pit of his stomach that life was about to change again. 

“Do be serious,” she chides, then takes a deep breath.  “Let’s just stop lying to ourselves, Robbie.  This isn’t working.  Us, I mean. As a couple. Not anymore.” 

“I know the past few months have been a bit rough, pet, but I do think it’ll get better,” he protests, though he thinks both of them can tell that it’s mostly for form’s sake. 

“It may be getting better, but I find that, even all these months later, I’m still bloody angry at you for going back to the Force without even doing me the courtesy of letting me know.  And then the whole thing with Lawrie,” she says, eyes earnest and squeezing his hands. 

“I don’t know what else I can say about the job, Laura.  How else I can apologize.  You know that I wasn’t exactly myself.  I’m bad at being retired.  I’m a copper, you know that.” 

“Do you know what James said to me, as we stood there watching you that first day back, at that farm?  ‘Once a copper, eh?’  He was right.” 

Robbie sighs and looks down at the table.  “And I know I could’ve handled the whole thing with Lawrie better.” 

“I don’t need to be protected, but I do think it highlighted that once again, you didn’t really think about what I needed,” she says quietly. 

“You make it sound like my caring is an imposition,” he says, somewhat stiffly. 

“It’s not that and you know it.  It’s more that once again, you made the decision and we didn’t really talk about it.”  Laura holds up a hand at his protest.  “We can talk around and around for ages, but I think that what it comes down to is that I need a partner who will work with me, Robbie.  We’re both bloody independent people, and I think perhaps we’re both too set in our ways to really change.  You’re used to being the authority, and I don’t take well to being… stifled.” 

“Stifled.  So I’m smothering you?” 

She sighs, drops his hands and scrubs hers roughly over her face. “I knew I would say this badly, so perhaps it’d be better if I say it bluntly. 

“Robbie, we’re not working as partners because you’ve already got one.” 

“I don’t understand.  If this is about Val….” 

“It’s got nothing to do with Val, and everything to do with a certain dishy former sergeant, now DI.” 

“Hathaway?!”

“Were you partnered with some other attractive, lanky stringbean for years?” 

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this.” 

“Robbie,” she says, and something about her tone has his protests dying in his throat.  “I’ve been working with the police for more years than I’d care to remember at this point, and what you had with James was special.  Really special.  And we both know it.” 

“Laura….”  Robbie trails off, shifting uncomfortably in his chair.  “He’s important to me.  I’ll not deny that.  We’re mates, he and I.”

“You were miserable when he was off on his walk across Spain.”  She’s pale, but resolute.  “I don’t think you realize how much you talked about him, while he was gone.  And you were so sad, so… diminished.  Until he came back, and Innocent came calling, and you dropped everything, absolutely everything, to return to his side. 

“And I’m tired of coming in third behind him and the job, Robbie.  Val’s memory, your daughter and grandson.  Hell, I could even maybe reconcile myself to the job, eventually.  These things I can handle.  But not James.” 

“It’s not like that.”

“Isn’t it?  And before you answer, let’s see… how does it go again?  ‘Anything you say can and will be held in evidence against you’?”  Her color’s returned, but only as furious splashes of color in her cheeks, and her eyes are shining with resigned tears.  “Robbie.  ‘He’s my awkward sod.’  Remember that conversation?” 

Robbie sighs, slumping in his chair.  “I do love you, Laura.  I really thought we could make a go of this.” 

“I did too.  And I love you too.  Always.”  She bites her lip, hard, and it’s clearly a struggle to force out her next words.  “But I think it’s time that we admitted that maybe we’re trying to make a space for the two of us when there isn’t really any to be found.  Because he’s already there.” 

“I never meant to hurt you.”  His voice is rough and his eyes are damp as he reaches out to grasp her hands.  “You’re important to me.  Always will be.” 

The tears are falling freely now, but her face is calmer.  “And I’m sure, if we give it a bit of time, we can get back to one of the best friendships of my life.  If you’re willing.” 

“Just you try and stop me.” 

They’re both silent and a little bit stunned at the abrupt end to a relationship nearly a decade in the making.  “I’ll confess I’m not entirely sure where to go from here.  I’ll find a place immediately, and can kip at a hotel tonight.” 

“I think that might be for the best, yes,” she says, faintly.  “Oh, one of the other doctors at the teaching hospital is actually going away to Glasgow for six months for a refresher course.  I think their sublet candidate may have backed out at the last minute.  Would you like me to inquire on your behalf?  I think they’d be really quite happy to have a copper looking out for the house while they’re away. 

“Aye.”  They sit and stare at each other.  “Crikey, this is bloody awkward now.” 

That breaks a bit of the tension, and they both sit back and slump a bit.  

“Does he know?”

“What, is the likes of him going to have feelings for me?”  Robbie scoffs.

“Don’t you run down my friend like that.  I have excellent taste, though apparently my gaydar needs a bit of fine tuning.”

“I’m not gay, Laura.  I’m… I don’t know what I am.  Having a sexuality crisis?  At my age?”

Laura eyes him thoughtfully.  “No. It’s just James, isn’t it? Putting you in touch with your inner bisexuality. He’s always been there.” She scrubs her hands over her face again.  “I knew he’d be in our lives, I just didn’t think I’d end up losing you to him in the end.”

“I don’t suppose you’d entertain….”  One elegant blonde eyebrow raises in disbelief.  “Well, worth a shot.”

“Ever the optimist,” she says, chuckling a bit.  “Right then.  I’ll handle the washing up.” 

“I’ll go get a few things packed.” 

The sound of water splashing and dishes clinking accompany his calm, but rapid sweep through the house.  He tucks a couple of suits and ties in a pair of bags, along with his shaving kit and a few changes of casual clothes and shoes.  In what feels like no time at all, he’s ready to head out into the cool evening and to an uncertain future.  One last look about the bedroom, and he gently picks up the framed photos of he and Val, and he and Laura, and places them on top of his clothes before zipping the bags closed. 

Right then. 

He places both bags at the door and joins Laura in the kitchen. “Let me know when I should stop by and pick up the rest of my things, yeah?”

“I will,” she says drying her hands and turning to him. “I called around and found a room for you tonight,” she says then relates the details. “I’ve also sent a text to Judy and she asked me to pass along her contact details. Give her a ring tonight. She’s quite pleased that I may have found someone trustworthy to look after her place while she’s away.”

There’s really nothing else to say as they cling to each other for a long moment. His nose brushes her hair, breathing in her scent before he forces his arms to loosen enough for her to slip free. She steps back just enough to brush a kiss against his cheek. “I do love you, Robbie Lewis,” she murmurs.

He cradles her jaw briefly before brushing a light kiss across her lips. “Laura,” he says quietly, trying his best to put all of his regard for her in his voice as he says her name. A few tears slip down her cheeks, but she smiles and nods.

It’s funny, he thinks, as he picks up his bags and closes their front door behind himself. The luggage is heavy, but his heart feels lighter than it has for quite some time.

*****

That night he and Laura called it off was months ago, but the memory is still fresh enough to sting. Robbie closes the folder he’s been reading with a sigh. “I’ll stop at the off license if you pick up the food?” 

“Thai?” James says, already reaching for his phone to call in an order. 

“Yeah, that sounds good.  Don’t forget the crab Rangoon,” he says. 

“It was one time.  Are you ever going to let it go?” 

“Memory like an elephant, me.  And those are delicious.”  James rolls his eyes but is smiling as they separate and head towards their respective cars. 

In short order, they’re lounging comfortably on his borrowed couch and making their way through the cold case files between bites of dinner.  

“Dunno why no one twigged to this before now.  Seems perfectly obvious that there’s a link in the cases,” he says to James, who’s on his third beer.  The couch in his sublet is much bigger than the one he’d had at his old apartment, though they seem to sit as close together as they always have. He’d gone for another beer a while ago, and held one up with a questioning look. James had considered, and nodded, holding out his hand for the brew. It’d been awkward, Robbie telling his former partner that he and Laura had called off their relationship, but James hadn’t pried. Nor had he asked why Robbie hadn’t just asked to stay at James’ place. Robbie’d appreciated it more than he could say at the time, though he’d made a point to mention that he had “a whole bloody great house to myself, and it’s closer to the station, so leave an overnight bag here yeah? Maybe knowing you’ve got a place to get your head down for a few hours means you’ll actually leave that desk once in a while.” He’d gotten one of James’ sweeter smiles at that, and a couple of spare suits and some toiletries have made themselves at home in the guest room. 

Makes nights like this one something quite nice, knowing James will be keeping him company and not have to worry about him driving home, possibly over the limit.

“Well, a couple of the assaults were fairly minor,” James says, flipping through one of the files. “And ones that got to the level of requiring a closer look all had different investigating officers.  And given how short staffed we were at the time, they were assigned a lower priority.”  

“So why now? Some of these cases go back to three years ago.  What’s happened that he’s started escalating the violence?” Robbie asks.

“Are we assuming it’s the same bloke?” 

“Is there a reason not to?” 

Robbie nods, thoughtfully.  “Well.  I don’t know about you, but I’ve had about all I can take of this tonight,” he says, tossing is case file on the coffee table.  “How’s this for a plan.  You pick a movie, and since you’re over the limit, stay in the guest room.  We’ll get breakfast tomorrow, come up with a white lie if people see us together outside of class, and buy my supplies for the class.” 

“You were sketching the river, I was rowing, we struck up a conversation and went for coffee,” James says, stretching luxuriously. 

“Of course you’ve already thought of that,” Robbie mutters.  James flashes him a blinding grin before reaching for the remote. 

Robbie, predictably falls asleep during the somewhat less than scintillating film James has chosen to watch, and he wakes at the sound of the end credits.  He nuzzles the warm, firm… and apparently moving pillow under his cheek? He blinks open eyes that don’t want to cooperate, and discovers that he’s not nuzzling his pillow, but instead is cuddled up against James’ shoulder. He can’t help himself and drags his lips over the bit they’re resting against, using sitting up as a disguise for his momentary lapse of sanity. 

Coming out of a not-entirely-feigned, sleepy stretch, he finds James looking at him with an expression that defies description.  Robbie can’t help pressing his tingling lips together, and they part in surprise as James’ gaze drops to them and linger for longer than can be easily laughed off as taking the piss. James’ eyes are dark with some unreadable emotion, and his expression is asking a question Robbie’s not entirely sure he’s prepared to answer. But is Robbie imagining it or is James leaning closer? James is definitely looking at Robbie's mouth and Robbie's breathing is speeding up when the moment is broken. They both start with surprise and flinch at a burst of sound from the telly as a particularly loud commercial begins playing. 

They stare at one another from opposite ends of the couch, startled and a bit taken aback, before James smoothly rises from the couch and grabs both their pint glasses, retreating to the kitchen under cover of tidying up for the night. Robbie sags back against the couch and rubs a hand over his face. What on earth was that all about? 

Even if he’d wanted to talk about it, Robbie loses his chance a moment later when James briefly reappears, rubbing his eyes tiredly and wishing him goodnight before disappearing into the spare bedroom. So much for figuring it out this evening.


	2. Chapter 2

Robbie had thought, after that mysterious moment, that it would take him a while to get to sleep, but to his surprise he’d dropped off as soon as his head hit the pillow.  He’d slept heavily and well, not waking even as James got up and went through his morning routine.  It had taken James actually coming into his bedroom and gently shaking his shoulder to pull him out of very pleasant dreams indeed. 

Then again, waking was rather pleasant too, as he blinked his eyes open to the sight of James standing there in those ridiculous jeans, wearing a casual shirt still unbuttoned and showing intriguing glimpses of smooth, creamy skin and a teasing flash of belly button.  The fact that James was still rubbing at damp, spiky hair with his towel brought a faint smile to Robbie’s face, which is not something that usually happens first thing in the morning.  Off duty James Hathaway was surprisingly relaxed and unfussy, and the fact that James could let his guard down so completely in Robbie’s space? Warms his heart, that. 

“C’mon.  Up, Robert.  Even with the vast quantities of Thai food consumed last night, I find that I’m quite hungry.  Also could use a coffee or three.  If you’re not ready to go in twenty minutes I may leave without you.”  James smiled at him from under the towel as he turned and padded off, barefoot and lithe, to finish dressing. 

Robbie’s just glad he happened to be sleeping on his side when James came in, as otherwise the very obvious evidence of those wonderful dreams would’ve been on full display.  James hadn’t helped that situation much, wandering in flashing his belly button, a faint, light colored trail of hair drawing the eye downward toward a view interrupted by the waistband of his jeans. 

In other words, Robbie’s hard as a rock, and if he’s going to shower before they leave, he’d better make it a quick and icy cold one. 

A short while later, they’re sitting outside in the restaurant’s garden area with their coffees, waiting for the food to be ready when James suddenly turns to him. “I’m glad it’s you, Robert.”

“Me too, but for what?” Robbie tries not to imagine his friend turning to him and blurting out those words in entirely different and much more seductive circumstances.

“Sorry. I mean that you’ll be there in the class. It would’ve been fine if it was Maddox, but I’m glad it’s you.”

“Me too. Can be a little awkward, when you sort of pull the curtain aside on a part of your personality, your self, in front of someone you know. They know you’re in a role, if it’s undercover, but some of them can’t help but gawp, and nearly blow the entire op at the very start. Especially if you’re supposed to be partners, and they’re looking at you like they’ve never seen you before.” Robbie grimaces, remembering a very sticky moment a few years back.

“That sounds like the voice of experience,” James says, eyebrow raised.

“Let’s just say that I recommended to our CS of the time that all officers be sent out on one undercover assignment in settings that don’t have the potential for serious violence. My sergeant at the time was pretty good, well. I mean, you were there, you met her.” Robbie’s face goes somber for a moment, remembering Ally McClennan and the end of that particular tale. “We got loaned to Vice and were supposed to be playing a hooker and client.”

"Didn't you used to work in Vice? Up in Newcastle?" James asks.

"I did, but it had been a while since I had to go undercover. And it was Ally's first time," Robbie says, shaking his head.

“I’m sure you looked absolutely fetching in the fishnets, Robert,” Hathaway drawls, squinting out over the river, looking perfectly serious but with an uncontrollable twitch in his cheek that gives him away.

“I’m telling you now, it’s much easier to wax than to shave,” Robbie says, also perfectly seriously but he breaks when Hathaway chokes, shooting coffee out his nose as he explodes into laughter. 

“You never!” James says, still snickering as he takes the napkin Robbie hands across the table.

“Nah, not for the case. No, that was more a traditional arrangement, though Ally nearly blew our cover when I started channeling my Uncle Frank. You know how there’s often ‘that one’ in the family?” James nods, dabbing at his tie. “Well, Uncle Frank was our particular black sheep. I opened my mouth, and she stopped dead. Just right there in the middle of the street, nearly tripping over her own feet in those heels. And she looked at me with such astonishment and said, ‘Sir!’ in such a scandalized tone that she nearly got us picked up by the bad guys. We recovered, but I didn’t hear the end of that one for a long time.”

“I can only imagine.”

“I really don’t think you can,” Robbie says, shaking his head. “We’re in a pretty rough area, and Ally’s dressed up like an experienced lady of the night, with all the right mannerisms. I thought we’d be fine. She recovered by turning to the private security coming our way and saying, ‘Gentlemen, this man is a pervert the likes of which I have never met before’. And they’re looking at me, and these are big guys, three of which are cracking their knuckles. Meaningfully. You know.” James nods and thanks their waitress when she sets their plates down in front of them. Once she’s left, and the two of them have sampled their very satisfactory food, Robbie reaches for his coffee and continues.

“Did I mention we were wearing wires so backup could keep tabs on us? I’m about to get pounded into a smear on the pavement when she follows it up with a huge smile and a sultry, ‘I can’t wait to try that!’ and those bastards on the other end of the comms nearly blew our ears out laughing.”

James is laughing too, with a wide smile he rarely shows anyone. It makes Robbie’s heart clench to see it, every single time. “Anyway, we made it past security into the hotel just fine, but the bloke didn’t show that night. Probably scared off my Ally’s very enthusiastic and occasionally very explicit running commentary on all the things we weren’t doing.” He can feel himself turning red just remembering the wicked gleam in her eyes, knowing she had a captive audience. And some of the things she’d come up with! “Luckily he did show the next evening, so I didn’t have to let Uncle Frank out again. But I got teased about it for weeks afterward.”

“I can only imagine what uniform made of that,” James is still smiling.

“Not just at work. Val though it hilarious. She knew nothing would happen with Ally.” 

“Because you were married, you mean,” James says, nodding firmly.

“Well, not just that. Ally was my bagman, my sergeant. A subordinate over whom I had authority, in my direct chain of command. Even if there hadn’t been Val, there’d have been that.” 

Robbie makes a very determined effort to eat and speak normally, though he feels like someone’s strangling him as he says the last sentence. Because he knows. He’s known for just how long James has been looking, and waiting, and wanting. Now that Laura’s opened his eyes, he can see it’s been nearly as long as Robbie’s been telling himself that he and James can’t have that kind of relationship.

James too was his bagman. His sergeant. And directly in his chain of command. 

Robbie watches out of the corner of his eye as James takes in what he’s said, and though he tries to hide it, Robbie’s an expert at reading the man. That was very definitely a double take and surprised inhale.

“She asked me, that night she was killed and we were having drinks, why I never ‘tried it on with her’. I mean, I had eyes. She was a handsome woman. But I wouldn’t have.”

James’ voice is husky with emotion when he replies after a moment. “No. I know you wouldn’t have.”

Thank the God he doesn’t believe in anymore that James has understood. Robbie picks up his coffee mug and collapses back in his chair, covering his relief by taking a long draught from his coffee. It’s always bothered him, not being able to respond to the flirting, the teasing glances. To watch as James slowly withered from lack of care. He’d ached to reach out, to gather the lad to him, hold him hard and not let go until James believed, truly believed that his feelings were returned.

Robbie never gave up the job for Val. He very nearly did for James, and more than once. He’d been on the verge of putting in for a training post, or another move that would take him directly out of James’ chain of command when the lad went on vacation to that orphanage.

But Robbie could feel that he’d been slipping away long before he left for Kosovo. 

And then Laura’d been there. With her friendship, her saucy flirting, her gentle yet insistent prodding at him to move past Val’s death, to let the heart frozen with grief thaw and learn to love again. Robbie had been seized by the fear that if he didn’t take his chance with Laura now, he’d lose both her and James. So he thought he’d take a few steps forward with Laura and see how it felt.

It had felt good, actually. Very good indeed. God knows he’d felt the lack of an intimate partner for years, and even with her tart tongue Laura was a very sweet companion. He wasn’t sure he was ready to commit to dating though, and had been planning to take James aside and let him know of developments that occurred while he was away, but that kiss in the pub had put paid to that plan almost before he’d been able to welcome the lad back from his holiday.

And then there was the call from Lyn, his decision to retire, and James deciding to leave the force altogether. The last case they’d worked on together with Hathaway as his sergeant had shaken him down to his core, and ultimately hurt him badly.

Innocent had given Robbie more than a piece of her mind the next time she’d been able to get him. She let Robbie know exactly how James had reacted to seeing Laura kiss him, and demanded that he fix whatever had gone wrong between him and his work partner. But by then it had been too late.

“People don’t know how you feel unless you tell them,” Laura had said to him once. He hasn’t been able to bring himself to tell his canny lad directly. Not yet. But the silence between them as they finish their meal isn’t uncomfortable, and James is doing his smiley eyes thing every time they catch one another’s gaze, so Robbie’s relaxing.

Message sent and received. He shivers, briefly, as the thrill of something a bit dangerous, something exciting chases itself up his spine, and a tingle briefly makes itself known in his cock.

Of course James notices. “Chilly?” he asks as he pushes his plate away and sets his napkin on the table. “Another coffee?”

“Let’s hit that shop on the way to the art store instead,” Robbie says, mirroring James’ actions as he stands and reaches for his wallet.

“Ah, my treat this morning, Robert. You’ve got to shell out for all those supplies, remember?” James rests his hand briefly between Robbie’s shoulders. This is not at all unusual. What IS unusual is how he slowly slides his hand down until it’s resting in the small of Robbie’s back. This can be written off as a guiding hand given how crowded the restaurant’s become, but Robbie thinks they both know that’s not the reason.

He nearly moans aloud at the idea of James touching him without their clothes between them, but covers the impulse by clearing his throat and asking, “Why are you calling me ‘Robert’ lately anyway?” 

“Thought I might try something new.  Do you mind?” 

“Can I call you Jim?” 

“Not if you want a reply.”  They both smile at this reminder of when James had finally, after far too many weeks of Robbie calling him “Jim” when they first started, let his new inspector know that he really disliked the shortening of his name. 

_“Ye daft sod, why didn’t you say anything before now?”_

_“I didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot, sir.”_

_“Ah, away with you.  For gods sake if you have something to say, speak up.  I’ll not bite your head off.”_

_“Understood.  Just so you know, I hate being called Jim and if you want a response, please don’t call me that again.”_

Robbie thinks that it’s actually kind of nice, the change in the way James is addressing him.  He’d only very rarely called him Robbie during all those years they’d worked together, relying on ‘sir’ and the formality of their Inspector and bagman relationship to smooth the way.  Of course, James had rarely been all that formal with Robbie, and their working relationship had evolved far past what most Inspectors have with their Sergeants. 

Still, there was something about the change that signaled a new phase in their friendship.  Relationship.  Whatever the thing developing between them was.  And Robbie honestly can’t deny that it’s actually a bit nice to have James refer to him by his full name.  Sort of a pet name, but anyone who heard them talking wouldn’t assume anything of the sort.

It gives Robbie a rather thrilling tingle of anticipation.  James’ voice as he uses his full, true name has a sexy sort of burr that hasn’t been there the few times he’s called him Robbie.  It’s nice.  It’s a bit dangerous. 

Robbie loves it.   

James takes care of the bill for breakfast, and after a brief stop for take away lattes, they head out into the cool, grey morning to an art shop on the High Street.  It’s like entering another world, crossing the threshold to the shop, and Robbie feels an unexpected thrill of anticipation that has only a bit to do with the handsome man at his side.  He’s not entirely sure, but he feels like he and James are brushing up against one another more than usual this morning. Even before the moment in the restaurant.  Laura isn’t the only one who had commented on the lack of personal space between them, but sharing space and small touches throughout the day and the course of their work with James has always been instinctive and felt completely natural. 

They’ve made slow but steady progress through the class supplies list as they walk around the shop. James is squishing one of the kneaded erasers between his fingers, fascinated at the texture, when a voice from behind them says, “I like the other brand better.  More effective.” 

They both start in surprise and turn to find a face from their past standing there, smiling faintly.  “Detective.  Sergeant.” 

“Philip?  Philip Horton?” Robbie manages to recover first. 

“You remember me,” the young man says, pleased. 

“Of course we do.  How are you?  Still painting?” James says, rocking back on his heels a bit. 

“I am well. And yes, Sergeant. Here to get more paint.” Phillip holds up his own shopping basket as evidence, and he does indeed have many different tubes of paint therein. 

“He’s an Inspector now, actually, and that’s good to hear,” Robbie says.  And it is.  Philip may have been a bit of an odd duck, but he certainly hadn’t deserved to be taken advantage of by a pair of unscrupulous professors.  Or to have his lovely friend killed by the same. 

“That’s good,” Philip says.  Someone has obviously coached him in conventional casual conversation in the years since they’d last seen him, as he says unprompted, “Are the two of you buying supplies?” 

“I am.  Thought I’d take a sketching class and see if I can’t improve a bit.  I’ll never be as talented as you, of course, but there’s something very relaxing about the way the pencil moves over the paper.” 

Philip smiles again, this time with more animation.  “Yes, there is.  I like these,” and he indicates a set that Robbie had looked at briefly, but passed over as being unnecessary.  “They cost more, but they feel better.  In your hands.” 

Robbie glances at James, who’s smiling.  “Well.  Can’t argue with the expert.  Give those here,” he says to James who plucks the set off the shelf and places it in Robbie’s basket, already occupied by a few sketchpads of varying sizes and other related paraphernalia.  “I just need this one thing and then I’ll have everything on the supplies list for the class.” 

“You’re taking a class?  Is it at the University?” Philip asks. 

“Just the continuing education programme.  I thought I’d give it a go,” Robbie says, a bit self deprecatingly.  

“Ah. I teach now, part of the time.  I teach in the morning, and paint at the river after lunch and sometimes people ask me questions.  You can ask me questions too, only about art and not about things like Nell.”  

James’ voice is very gentle when he says, “I hope we’ll never have to ask you about anything like Nell ever again.” 

“That’s good,” Philip replies, nodding.  “I have to go now.  You can find me if you have more questions though, Inspectors,” he says and abruptly makes his way to the counter. 

“Blast from the past, that,” Robbie murmurs as they watch the young man depart.  

“It was nice to bump into him.  He’s had a couple of shows at some of the galleries around town, and his work is gathering a respectable fanbase,” James says.  “I bought one of his earliest works, as an investment.  A small watercolour, from his last student show.” 

“Of course you did,” Robbie says, fondly.  He’s utterly unsurprised that James would have kept an eye on Philip after they’d solved the case.  Some sort of ‘awkward sods solidarity’, perhaps.  Or it might just be that James has a very soft interior hiding behind the prickly outer shell.  Robbie knows that his partner had a monthly “chess and catch up” coffee date with Zoe Suskin, for example.  Another brilliant and awkward young woman, who’d looked to James as a mentor after the death of her father.  James had even proofread her thesis and introduced her to a couple of his more scholarly friends at Cambridge, after she’d moved there to pursue a doctorate. 

It’s a damn shame that the same compassion and empathy that makes James so good with the victims of their cases is also the greatest source of anguish when it comes to their work.  His perceived failures with Adam Tibbit had finally broken the lad a couple of years ago, driving him away from the force and the work he was so good at. 

Robbie always found it it a bit odd that he should end up with a pair of utterly brilliant, yet broken men as his partners during his time on the force.  Hathaway and Morse could’ve been cast from the same mould, and Robbie thinks they probably would’ve absolutely hated one another should they have ever met.  A case of being a bit too alike for comfort, he muses.  A few differences, obviously, as James had finished his degree and couldn’t stand opera.  And Morse was obviously far more comfortable with women than James would likely ever be. 

Robbie still chuckles over that bow to Liv Nash whenever the image crosses his mind. 

“Is there something particularly amusing about charcoals?” James’ voice brings Robbie back to the here and now. 

“Just the way you end up smudged in unlikely places,” Robbie says as he plucks a couple of willow or vine sticks and a packet of compressed charcoal rom the shelf and gestures with his head towards the cash register. 

“That’s an awful lot of things for such a short class,” James says. 

“This is nothing.  You should’ve seen the list of things Val needed for her oils class,” Robbie says, thinking back.  “She’d saved most of her personal spending money for over a year to afford everything, and took in a bit of sewing now and again for a bit of extra when the kids were wee and we were just starting out.  There’s always mending to be done when the kids have school uniforms, along with alterations and the like.  Saved us quite a bit of money, her knowing how to take up my son’s trousers at the beginning of the school year, and letting them down again as he grew.  Mind, one year we had to buy three separate sets, as he grew nearly four inches in height over the course of the school year.  Filled out at the shoulders, and went through a lot of shoes that year too,” he says, reminiscing. 

“I suppose hobbies are rarely inexpensive prospects,” James says. 

“Aye.  I mean, this is quite a bit less than the three thousand pounds your guitar is worth, so I figure Innocent’s budget is getting off lightly,” Robbie says as he nudges James with an elbow as the cashier rings up his supplies. 

“I know a few undercover ops at a club that cost more than this, and that was just the drinks,” James says, smirking. 

After the shopping is complete, they agree to separate for the remainder of the weekend, though their original plans had been to head out to the countryside for a long walk.  Not nearly the same sort of long walk James had been on, in Spain.  Hopefully less anguish and existential crisis, and more fresh air, pleasant conversation and pints in a cozy local pub.  Innocent had sent him an email before they left the office, apologizing for canceling their weekend off, but they’re to put in for it again after the class and, hopefully, the case wrap up. 

Robbie doesn’t want to examine why a weekend away with James was both more relaxing and more exciting than the prospect of the same had been with Laura.  And yes, it had included an overnight stay somewhere though he’d let James deal with the lodgings, as the man seemed to positively enjoy searching for the best deals in unexpectedly charming places on the internet.  Hadn’t stopped Robbie from wondering if he’d booked one room or two. 

And he’s honestly not sure which one he’d prefer at this point. The way James’ hand had lingered on Robbie's elbow when he’d squeezed it in farewell is completely normal. The look in James' eyes, and the inflection in his voice, however, had been something new. Robbie himself had a hard time letting go of James’ shoulder when he’d reached up to grasp it briefly, and he really doesn’t think he was imagining the low level smoulder being directed his way by a pair of very blue, very expressive eyes.

Ah, nothing to be done about it right now. He’s made far more progress than he’d originally anticipated with James today, and it’s not like this quickening in their friendship hasn’t been building for nearly ten years. Robbie resolutely sets aside any conflicted feelings and sets off for home, planning the rest of his day - lots and lots of practice sketches.  
Honestly he’d rather be working the case files, but James has taken them home to review since he’s going to have plenty of time to think, being the model. 

*****


	3. Chapter 3

He’s working his way through the newspaper the next day when James calls. “I’ve been reviewing the files. There’s only a couple of common threads in these cases.”

“Oh? Enlighten me.”

“A couple of links among the students. Two classes had students that were friends - they’d signed up together because they thought it’d be fun, but neither were among the victims. There is a thread among the victims though. All were considered the best in the class. There’s nothing else that ties the assaults together.”

“Nothing?” Robbie asks.

“No. One victim had clay from the pottery class she’d been attending under her fingernails. Another victim had traces of a common turpentine used to clean oil brushes. A third, and this one is one of the sexual assault victims, had traces of glass dust from her stained glass course all over the clothing she’d been wearing at the time of the assault.” James sighs. “Honestly, the only real lead we have is that all the victims attended continuing art education classes through the University.”

“Well, it’s a starting point,” Robbie murmurs as he locks the door to his sublet behind him. “I’m heading to class now. See you there?”

“Yeah, I’m on my way now. Meet up after to go over notes?”

“Sounds good.” James clicks off as Robbie slides behind the wheel. 

It’s a short drive to the college where the class is being held, and he finds the classroom with no difficulty. Robbie picks a stool at random and waits for the rest of the class to settle. There’s more people here than he thought there would be, including someone who definitely doesn’t look eighteen. The instructor chooses just that moment to enter though, in a waft of scent, announced by the flutter of her flowing clothing, and the clink of a truly impressive number of bangles adorning her wrists and necklaces gracing her throat.

“Everyone! Welcome, welcome. Please find a seat, there you are.” She waits as everyone settles before continuing. “I am Lucy, your instructor. I’ve been doing this for absolute ages, and I’m sure we’ll be able to bring out your inner artist. Let’s go around the room so that everyone can introduce themselves. First names only, please and let’s leave our usual occupations at the door. In this class, for these few hours we’ll spend together, you are artists. If you’ve done any other art please do tell us about it.”

Robbie pays attention as they do a quick go-around the room. There’s a pretty equal mix of men and women, of all different ages. Though the youngest in the room, named Amanda, is quite obviously underage. Lucy takes a moment to say that the admissions office has made arrangements for Amanda to attend the first two classes. 

“I’m working on a project for my A-levels, you see, and they’ve been very kind to allow me to attend,” she says, blushing lightly and toying with one of her charcoals.

“We’re glad you’re here, dear,” Lucy says kindly as she pats Amanda’s shoulder. “It does mean, however that the model won’t be fully nude for the first two sessions. Speaking of our model…. James? Are you ready? It’s time, darling!” The instructor claps her hands in delight as James hovers in the doorway, wearing a short dressing gown with flip flops on his feet.

A gentleman who’d introduced himself as ‘Guy’ protests. “I thought we’d have a female model!” 

“Yes, well, we _were_ going to. She’s a regular, and a delight to work with. However, she’s had a family emergency and was kind enough to find a friend who is willing to fill in. Otherwise we’d have had to cancel the class. This won’t be an issue, will it?” There’s more than a hint of steel in Lucy’s voice and gaze, and Guy subsides with a grumble at his sketchbook. “No? Excellent. I for one am rather excited that we’ve a different model this time. Look at those unique features! He’ll be quite a treat to sketch.”

James isn’t feigning the flush in his cheeks as he removes the robe and his shoes at Lucy’s suggestion, and steps up onto the platform set there so he’s slightly elevated and easier for all the students to see. 

Robbie blinks a bit in shock. It’s not that he didn’t know that life modeling was usually done nude. It’s just that he hadn’t connected ‘nude model’ and ‘James Hathaway’ in his head.

Luckily for their covers he manages to keep his shock to a single hard blink. Besides, James isn’t completely nude. He’s wearing a nervous and terribly self conscious smile on those long features, as well as a pair of tight boxer briefs and a matching singlet. 

There’s still a whole lot more of James on display than Robbie is used to, and he’s thankful all over again that he’s the one here for this assignment. No one else they know should see James like this. He’s too open, too vulnerable. Even Lizzie, rapidly becoming a good friend and an excellent sergeant, wouldn’t be able to resist taking the piss. Robbie’s about the only one James would fully trust to see him in such a situation, and he resolves once more to do something nice for Innocent at the very next opportunity. James takes one last look around the classroom, and it gives Robbie the chance to smile encouragingly at his former bagman, who straightens, clears his throat and asks Lucy in his smooth baritone for some instruction on which poses to take. 

It also gives Robbie an excuse to stare at all the lovely muscles and skin on display with no shame whatsoever. He finds that his charcoal is already moving over the paper as Lucy outlines the flow for both model and class. A series of shortish poses, about ten minutes each. A break, then a series of quick poses, with lots of action and movement, sliding into one long pose. A few more quick ones, another break for James to stretch and have a drink or a snack, and then one final long pose to close the class. Two hours total, with Lucy’s assistant adjusting lighting as they go. 

Robbie keeps his ears open to the chatter in the classroom over the course of the evening. He doesn’t talk with his fellow students much, but the volume level rises as people relax and remember no one is grading their work. It’s not like he’s expecting their suspect to leap out and declare themselves, but he tries to get a feeling for each individual as best he can from where he’s at. 

What he wasn’t expecting was how the evening turns out to be a lot of fun for everyone involved. 

James, prompted by Lucy, starts out leaning against the wall, one knee bent with his foot resting against the wall, and arms crossed in front. It’s a pose Robbie’s seen before, but James exaggerates a sulk, frowning and bending his head to scowl at the floor. The next is with James crouching on all fours on the platform, doing his best to channel Lucy’s prompt of ‘an animalistic kind of feeling’. He even gives his best snarl, which sends young Amanda into gales of laughter, which sets the rest of the class off. James can’t help it and sits back on his haunches, throwing his head back with laughter, and Lucy asks him to hold that pose. He complies, grinning at the ceiling rather helplessly for a few minutes. It highlights the length of his neck and the strong line of his jaw, and Robbie finds himself staring helplessly at that spot between his collarbones that’s shadowed a bit by the lighting. He wonders what the skin there tastes like, and if James would let him sip a bit of whisky from that spot some day. _‘Suprasternal notch,’_ he hears Laura murmur in his head, which rather effectively breaks his focus.

It’s soon recaptured by allowing his gaze to wander down the James’ torso, and he can’t help but tilt his head and shift a bit to the side, as he lets his hands reproduce the distinct bulge in James’ boxer briefs, before making a meal of those rower’s thighs over a number of pages in his sketchbook. His neighbour Heather, a self professed mother with a brood of three, leans close with a very complimentary comment about his work in a voice that’s not really very quiet, and Robbie has to stifle a smile when James blushes furiously.

Lucy can see James is beginning to strain to hold the position, so she has him rise and stand with both hands on his hips. It’s another familiar stance, as Robbie’s seen him do the same in front of the murder board on countless occasions.

Though he’s always going to see James in what are basically his kecks every single time in his mind’s eye from now on, no matter how many layers James has got on in the office.

Robbie’s pencils and charcoals never stop moving, and when Lucy finally calls time on the class he can’t believe two hours have already passed. He thinks his favourite pose of the entire session was a long one with James sitting on a stool, head turned to the left and ‘daydreaming’, per Lucy’s instruction. The lad had been turned just slightly away from Robbie, who’d taken the opportunity to do separate sketches of parts of James he rarely gets to see. His bent knee, looking very vulnerable exposed to the open air. His feet, from his ankles to those long toes. It’s not that Robbie’s not seen James without shoes on, but he’s always wearing socks when he kicks off his shoes to rest his legs on the coffee table. Robbie has ridiculously tender feelings towards those toes, wiggling every now and again as many pairs of eyes trace everything on display. And the muscles of James’ upper arms had gotten a rather loving reproduction. The shirts worn in the office usually suffer a bit of strain across his shoulders and over his biceps, and with James wearing nothing but a singlet on his upper body, Robbie’s riveted by the ripple of those muscles under smooth skin.

Lucy’s been making regular rounds of the students, offering gentle suggestions here and there. Robbie hadn’t been prepared for the level of enthusiasm for his work, nor the praise she offers with all sincerity every time she drifts past his own seat. He can feel some of his fellow student’s eyes on him, though he keeps his own eyes either on his own sketch pad or on James. 

He comes back to himself as the noise level in the room increases. Everyone’s packing their supplies away, and James steps down to shove his feet into his shoes and to gracefully shrug into the short robe. He reaches into one of the pockets of the robe and extracts his phone, rapidly typing with his thumbs even as Lucy approaches to rave about his work during the session. He fiddles with it as he converses with the teacher, absently nodding as they walk towards the desk in the corner where her personal items are resting. Robbie feels his own phone vibrate a moment later, but he waits until he’s finished tucking his own supplies into the messenger bag he’d bought for this little adventure before fishing his phone out of his jeans.

_Recap over a pint? Should send summary to Laxton._

Robbie nods to himself and pecks out the name of a pub that’s not far from the college and on the way home for both of them. It’s not a favourite, but that’s a good thing in this situation.

“What’d you think of the model? I mean, you’ve obviously done this quite a bit, seeing how dear old Lucy was going on about your work,” a sour voice says from behind him. Robbie starts and turns to find Guy standing behind him. 

“I haven’t, actually. Done this much. A couple of painting classes with my wife, years and years ago before she… passed. I guess I’m just a good observer,” Robbie says, studying the man in front of him. Guy is older than James but younger than Robbie, fairly fit and but otherwise unremarkable. “And you? Do you sketch much?”

“Nah. It’s clichéd, but mostly I’m here for the naked women,” Guy shrugs. “And occasionally there’s another female student that you can chat up, see if it goes anywhere. Different than a bar, anyway. But you. You seem to have taken a shine to our substitute model.”

“Seems like a nice enough lad. Interesting looking, and I think it’s rather kind that he’s filling in for a friend on short notice.” Robbie shrugs. “Not sure I’d stand around in my underwear for hours, in front of a dozen strangers. Even for a friend.”

The man snorts, eyes Robbie up and down one more time before turning and striding out the door. Robbie’s distracted from his thoughts by one of the other students tugging at his elbow. Gloria, her name was, with three beloved grandchildren that she wanted to sketch while they were still small. She and her friend Linda are well known to the art department, as they work their way through the catalogue of classes available. Gloria takes Robbie’s elbow and chatters at him non-stop as he escorts her and Linda out to their car, making sure they’re tucked up safe and buckled in before standing back and watching them drive away.

The pub is on the way back to his house, but it’s far enough away and the night chilly enough that he doesn’t want to walk it. He does have the good luck to find a parking space very near the front door, and slips inside to find James already installed in a secluded booth towards the back. He’s already gotten a couple of pints in, and one of them’s half empty.

“Thirsty work?” Robbie nods at James' glass even as he raises his own to his lips. Ahh, that’s the stuff. Nothing like a good think over a pint.

“Surprisingly, yes. It’s really rather warm under those lights, and I didn’t realize how much effort it takes to sit and not move much for extended periods of time.”

Robbie grins at that statement. Hathaway fidgets, constantly. He’s always playing with a pen, poking at his keyboard, or tapping his toe to unheard music if they’re trapped at their desks. Smoothing his tie if he’s a passenger in Robbie’s car, or drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel if he’s the one driving. Or fiddling with his pint glass or a coaster if they’re in a pub. Like he is right now.

James catches his eye and sighs. “Yes, I know. Don’t say a word.”

Robbie smiles and changes the subject. “Hadn’t anticipated not getting last names during the introductions. That’s going to make it hard as hell to follow up on everyone.”

James brightens at this. “Lucy, bless her free spirit, had the class list sitting on top of a folder on her desk. When Nathan came up to ask her some questions, I took the opportunity to walk around the desk and take a few pictures with my phone along the way.” James retrieves his mobile and passes it to Robbie. “Already sent them to Laxton to get started running background checks,” he says as Robbie flicks his way through the pictures.

“Anyone stand out from where you were sitting?”

“Two. I can’t see any of the women in the class being the type to bash their fellow students over the head, let alone sexually assault them. The young man that was to my right felt a bit off. Timothy Smith, according to the class list,” James says as he reaches to take his mobile back from Robbie. Who nearly drops it right into his pint at the feeling of James' long, strong fingers against his own. They both instinctively lunge to keep the device from an alcoholic death, fingers tangling in the scramble to grip the mobile, foreheads nearly colliding over the pub table.

James bites his lip in an attempt not to laugh, and Robbie can’t help himself as his gaze drops to where he can see those straight teeth digging in to the plush flesh of James’ lower lip. ‘Christ, man, get a grip,' he thinks to himself as he looks up to find James staring right at him from inches away, eyes dark and eyebrow raised.

“I don’t think Innocent will accept ‘death from moderately good ale’ as an excuse when expensing a new mobile,” Robbie says, a bit more breathlessly than he’d like.

James is about to answer, but they’re interrupted by a group of drunk students who jostle the table on the way to the loo. Robbie exhales on a sigh, drops James’ phone into his hand and sits back, picking up his own pint for a long swallow.

He’d thought that maybe he’d been imagining things at breakfast the other day. The sad, hopeful delusions of an aging, lonely man. But that moment right there? He wasn’t wrong. Not the way James had been looking at him just now.

The way he’s still looking at Robbie, which he discovers when he lowers his pint glass and meets his partner’s eyes. 

“Excellent save, Robert,” James practically purrs, as he leans back against the seat.

“Expensive mobile, James,” Robbie says rather huskily, unable to look away.

“Mmm hmm,” James murmurs, making it obvious that he’s not talking about the phone, but Robbie’s attempt to distract him. He must be feeling merciful, though, as he returns to their previous topic. “Anyway, Timothy is one, and I didn’t like the way he was looking at your neighbour Heather, but the other is…”

“Guy Edwards,” Robbie says. “He was a touch too disturbed that the female model wasn’t there, and I had a very odd conversation with him at the end of class. He was a little too interested in me and my focus on, well, you.” He’s glad the pub lighting is rather weak, because he can feel that traitorous flush returning to his cheeks again.

“Most people were focused on me, but that’s the point of having a live model to sketch. Edwards, however, spent most of the class watching his fellow classmates. He spent more time watching you than anyone else though, especially after Lucy had come by and praised your work. The way he went about it didn’t feel right,” James says, eyes narrowing.

“That would fit with my conversation. Bloody creepy, really. Shoot a text over to Laxton, have her concentrate on those two.”

They finish their pints while trading observations back and forth. James cheekily asks if he can get a peek at Robbie’s sketchbook, which Robbie dodges by mentioning he’s left it in the boot of his car. Completely true, but James is going to look at his sketches when hell freezes over. The sketches are rough, but all the emotions he’s feeling about this shift in their friendship are right there on the page to see. Lucy had exclaimed over it more than once, to his eternal embarrassment. He’s not going to be able to bluff his way out of a Moment (capital letter intended) with James if he sees those pictures.

And he’s not quite ready yet. But every time he and James meet, he’s moving closer to the point where he feels like he will be able to have that conversation. 

They slip out the front door of the pub. “Which way is your car?” James says, and Robbie nods towards the left. “Ah, I’m this way,” he says as he moves closer to peer into Robbie’s face. They gaze at each other for a moment before James takes a deep breath and reaches for Robbie’s hand. “Robert, I….”

The sound of James’ mobile ringing interrupts whatever it was he was going to say. James rolls his eyes, and fishes his mobile out of his pocket with his unoccupied hand. The fingers of the hand holding Robbie’s squeeze gently, and James turns and tugs him towards the spot where his car is parked.

“Hello Mrs Chapel. What? Two of them? Which ones?” James interlaces their fingers absently as he listens intently to the person on the other end of the line. Robbie’s heart skips a beat and he can’t help but squeeze gently in return. “Oh. Oh, dear. Yes, I agree that’s not good. I’m about ten minutes away, but will come directly. Yes, that’s right. See you in a bit,” he says before ringing off. They’ve arrived at Robbie’s vehicle. “One of my neighbours. Limited mobility, has three shih tzu dogs, two of which are very grumpy, and prone to troublemaking and biting anyone they encounter. And they’ve gotten loose.” He turns a very intent gaze on Robbie before smiling faintly and releasing his hand with one last squeeze. “Duty calls,” he murmurs as he leans in.

Robbie holds his breath, not entirely sure he’s ready for whatever James has in mind, but the other man leans to the side at the last moment and breathes into his ear, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Robert.” With the merest hint of a nuzzle to Robbie’s earlobe, he steps back slowly and smiles at whatever he can see in Robbie’s face, before turning and walking down the street towards his own car.

Robbie’s knees throw a wobbly and he finds himself half collapsing against the side of his vehicle. They haven’t even done anything but flirt a little and he’s practically swooning. He can’t help the enormous grin that graces his face. He’s got no idea, really, where they’re headed, but it’s going to be one hell of a ride.

He sobers, a bit, as he slides behind the wheel. He hasn’t felt like this since he started dating Val. Breathless, tingly even. And just… yearning. It’s taking more self control that he’ll admit to not to just turn the car in the direction of James’ flat and damn the consequences.

But the anticipation, the not really knowing what the other person is going to do? He’s not quite ready to give that up just yet. It’s bloody terrifying, but thrilling. 

Looking down at his lap, he sighs, shaking his head. Complete with wanking in the shower at the end of the date.

*****

James does call the next afternoon. Laxton’s been in touch via email, letting them know that nearly everyone in the class is clean. A few parking tickets, a few cautions for disturbing the peace, and a couple of minor possession charges for marijuana… Lucy’s was a bit more serious, given she’d been growing a couple of plants in her greenhouse, but they’d been for personal use only. Case notes have her stating, “Sometimes the well of inspiration runs dry, darlings, and at such times one must go _looking_ for one’s muse.” 

Unsurprisingly, the two people James picked out are a cause for concern and a closer look.

Timothy Smith apparently hadn’t taken a fellow classmate’s refusal to date him seriously, and had harassed her to the point where it had escalated to a minor, but physical altercation. He’d promptly been expelled from his school. Kicked about for a bit with the wrong crowd for a time, but managed to find a mentor who got him on a better path. And discovered that he enjoyed doodling, especially manga, and he’s in the class to try to pick up a few tips and tricks that will help him as he develops his own stories. He’s also, according to sources, struggling with his sexual identity.

Robbie and James toss a few theories back and forth a bit, but both feel in their gut that young Timothy isn’t the person responsible.

No, Guy Edwards definitely has captured their focus.

Robbie reflects as he listens to James that he still finds it a bloody odd to not work with him all the time. He’s been quite happy with the compromise he and Innocent had worked out, where Robbie floats among the teams, not dedicated to any single one, keeping a hand in on cases but also providing more ‘on the job’ sort of training for inexperienced team members. He’s enjoying passing his knowledge on to people who actually want to learn, with a wider variety of cases than he’d had previously, and flexible hours so he’s not working himself into the ground anymore.

And to be fair, he does seem to end up with James and Lizzie about half the time due to the nature of the cases they work on. Robbie and James’ expertise is murder, after all. And James is still finding his feet as an Inspector, though thankfully he’s finally relaxed and realized he’s not failing if he’s not doing it all himself. He’s working smarter, not harder.

Mostly. They hang up after James says he’s going to do a little digging on his own, and Robbie breaths out on a sigh.

His life is quite full, but he finds that he’s still a bit lonely. He went from working with James all the time, to retiring and living with Laura full time with barely a pause in between. He’s been on his own for a while now - it’s been months since he and Laura called things off, and he finds he doesn’t much care for it. He’d managed on his own, after Val’s death, but he knows he’s someone who does better when he has regular contact with those he loves. And he positively thrives when he’s in a relationship.

Well, when he’s in a relationship with the right person. Looking back, he can see now all the little ways he and Laura hadn’t been right for each other. He and James might not talk about their relationship the way Laura had been so keen on, but they muddle along all right. Their most important conversations barely included words at all.

With James, actions have always spoken louder than words, Robbie muses as he slides between his borrowed sheets for the evening. Perhaps he’ll dream the perfect way forward and wake up in the morning with a fully baked plan on how to woo his James.

My James. When Robbie drifts off to sleep that evening, he does so with a smile on his face.

*****


	4. Chapter 4

Robbie’s setting out his supplies a couple of days later for the second class, glancing around at his fellow students and reviewing the information Laxton’s team has unearthed in the meantime. 

Having ruled out most of the students, they’d taken a closer look at university staff, to make sure they’d examined all the angles. A couple of the professors, and a few of the administrative staff have enjoyed taking a class or two through the programme, but Edwards still stands out. He’s an accountant in the bursar’s office, and the one person by far who’s not only taken classes, but the most art classes offered. Laxton’s team is hard at work taking a closer look at the man, doing interviews with co-workers, friends and family, looking for anything that might tie the man to the string of crimes.

There’s little for Robbie to do right now but enjoy the class and concentrate on his sketching. And James. He’s set up just one person over from Edwards this time, in the off chance that he’ll discover something significant during the course of the class, but all thoughts of their suspect disappear from his thoughts as James walks into the room and lets the robe slide from his shoulders.

No undershirt this time, and an even shorter, tighter pair of boxer briefs. The room is warmer too. Must be, because Robbie can feel a trickle of sweat working its way down his chest under his shirt. 

Once again Robbie loses all sense of time, his fellow students, anything that isn’t James. Who’s more comfortable posing this time, now that he knows what to expect, smoothly working his way through the forms at Lucy’s prompting.

Her voice is a background murmur that barely makes it through his concentration. “You’re doing wonderfully James. Class, what a treat we have in this model. Look at that musculature. The unusual slope to his shoulders! Delightful!”

When she prompts James to take a ‘warrior’ pose, he grins and recreates a pose found on an ancient Greek vase, crouching a bit and moving into a lunge. He holds one arm out to the side a little bit, pretending to hold a shield, and brings the other back and up as if he’s about to plunge a spear into his enemy. “Oh, that’s lovely, James,” Lucy sighs. Robbie finds himself nodding in agreement. “Hold that for a couple of minutes, then shift a bit and retake that pose? Let us see that one from a couple of different angles.” 

James does, and Robbie spends what feels like eternity gazing directly at James' very firm buttocks under his boxer briefs when James’ new position presents his back to Robbie. His charcoals lovingly recreate the long, well muscled line of his back leg in the lunge, and he finds himself wondering whether or not James’ weakness would be revealed if Robbie gently sunk his teeth into the achilles tendon lit rather lovingly by the classroom lights. 

He’s just as captivated as Lucy takes James through a few more poses, most of which Robbie finds rather familiar from their years together. ‘Brooding’ has James folded up in a chair, taking up less space than should be possible given his height. The light in his eyes and the small, pleased smile on his face that comes out when Lucy prompts him with ‘joy’, a look Robbie’s seen before, most notably when he’d done a bit of research and found James’ guitar when it’d been stolen. ‘Frustration’ provokes a tense, standing posture with clenched fists and a chin raised towards the ceiling. A couple more before the teacher calls for a break, and James flows into what looks like a very satisfying stretch, feet hip width apart and arms stretched out to the side, back arched and a small groan escaping his lips.

“Oh! James, hold that for just a couple of minutes? Then you’ll get a real break, I promise. Class, concentrate on his torso, and the way the muscles are highlighted….” Lucy’s voice fades out as Robbie dutifully follows her instructions, letting his eyes rove over James’ chest, eyes catching and pencil slowing as he slowly fills in the treasure trail leading down from James’ flat stomach. He finds himself biting his lip as he recreates the cut of muscle at his hip, just above the low riding waistband of James’ underwear, and makes the mistake of looking up at James’ face.

Only to find him staring directly at Robbie, a small smirk on his face as he leans back just a touch more, highlighting the play of muscle in his abdomen and with the added bonus of just barely thrusting his groin in Robbie’s direction.

He’s not proud of the moment when Lucy unexpectedly materializes at his elbow, startling him so badly he snaps his pencil right in half. His face flames at the knowing chuckle that floats to him over the noise of the class as everyone takes advantage of a proper break, and he does his best to pay attention as Lucy rains praise down on his work. 

He ducks his head at her gushing, but it’s enough to catch a glimpse of Guy Edwards out of the corner of his eyes, staring at him and Lucy in pure anger.

The rest of the class passes fairly uneventfully. James has retaken position just a bit closer towards the end of the room where Edwards is set up, and Robbie takes the opportunity to shift so he can observe the other man as his hands move on autopilot. Edwards doesn’t appear to be sketching much. When he does, they’re all short, sharp strokes, and he bears down so hard he tears the paper more than once.

He’s tucking his supplies away again when his phone pings. Same pub? Robbie texts back an acknowledgment and is turning to go when his elbow is jostled, and not very gently. “Be a little more obvious about fancying the faggot, why don’t you?” Edwards sneers before he pushes past Robbie and shoves the door to the room open roughly, not caring that he nearly knocks Gloria over along the way. James, having re-entered the classroom to speak with Lucy after dressing, frowns and steadies the older woman. He takes her bag and offers her an arm, matching her slow pace as he escorts her to her car. Amanda keeps pace with them, the young woman taking the opportunity and her captive audience to gush at James about how much she learned during her two classes. Robbie grins at the predictable flush he can see on the back of James’ neck, but peels off to his car and leaves his partner to his fate.

It’s still cool enough that he once again drives to the pub, parking in practically the same spot as last time. He’s standing at the crowded counter, idly watching the barmaid pulling the pints when he feels a hand on his back and there’s a warm voice in his ear. “I thought I’d never get away,” James murmurs, leaning close to let a young man, hands full of pints, slide by.

“Think you managed to cover both ends of the age spectrum this evening with your fans. For a moment there, I wasn’t sure which cheek Gloria was going to pinch, and I think young Amanda is positively smitten by you,” Robbie says, trying and failing to stifle the shiver that works its way down his spine. The warmth of James standing pressed against his side, the hand on his back and sliding lower combined with the vibration of that glorious voice in his ear? No chance.

“That was a bit new. I’m not sure anyone’s ever had a crush on me before,” James muses.

“Then you’ve definitely not been paying attention,” Robbie says before thinking.

“Is that so?” James is so close he can’t miss the flush Robbie can feel stealing over his cheeks. His eyes narrow thoughtfully, and one eyebrow raises in speculation. 

“I could practically write a treatise on chess as a form of flirtation, and use Zoe Suskin as our case study, for example” he replies. “But there’ve been plenty of others.”

“Have there now,” James says under his breath, but the barmaid takes the opportunity to plunk their pints down on the counter and they break apart so Robbie can pay.

The rest of the evening is nice. They go over the results of Laxton’s team’s interviews. Julie in particular has unearthed some interesting information. It turns out that Edwards’ wife died suddenly about eighteen months ago. It was actually one of Grainger’s cases, though the ME had ruled it an accidental death. James notes that Laura wasn’t the ME on the case but was instead that same “outstandingly crap at his job” colleague that had plagued them during the Rachel Mallory case all those years ago. 

“How is he still working?” Robbie wonders.

“No idea,” James sighs. “He must have some truly exceptional dirt on the Chief Constable to have lasted all this time.”

Edwards’ wife had considered herself quite the artist, according to Julie’s notes, complete with a stereotypically demanding personality, and had spent far in excess of the income her accountant husband brought home.  She’d dabbled in many different mediums, and apparently slept with plenty of the people in the community. She and her husband had built a small studio in the garden, so she could work ‘in private’. If the ME’s report was to be believed, she’d taken a break from ‘upscaling’ a cabinet for a friend, fallen asleep in a sunbeam and never woke up again due to all the fumes. “Really? Asphyxiation?” 

“There are notes that the studio didn’t have proper ventilation. It was plausible, and with the ME’s ruling no one looked any deeper into the case.” James shakes his head. “There’s a note here that there was some sort of residue over the vents, but it was explained away at the time as leftover adhesive from the construction.”

Robbie can only shake his head. “And no one thought that just maybe someone had made sure those fumes couldn’t escape? Anything in her blood tox?”

James swipes through his phone thoughtfully. “Nothing that wasn’t explained away by her lifestyle. Quite a bit of alcohol, and a prescription sedative. One that clearly states ‘do not take with alcohol’ on the label.”

“Convenient,” Robbie says, frowning.

“Probably too convenient. They’re still digging, but it’s looking more and more like he’s our man,” James says, tipping back the rest of his pint. “Another?”

Robbie nods, and James makes his way to the bar once more. He returns in short order, the crowd having thinned a bit, and their conversation turns to things other than the case.

For the life of him though, Robbie honestly can’t remember what they talked about for the rest of the evening. He’s too captivated by James in full-on flirt mode, complete with sparkling eyes and not-actually-accidental brushes of his leg against Robbie’s under the table. Robbie gives as good as he gets though, and cheers internally every time he sees James’ breath catch, or a blush wash across those cheekbones.

The evening draws to a close though, when James’ phone pings multiple times in rapid succession. “It’s Julie. She says she’d like to meet with me in person early tomorrow, to go over a few things.” James sighs.

“Walk you to your car?” Robbie offers, rising and retrieving their coats. He holds James’ out and shakes it invitingly. James rolls his eyes but allows Robbie to help him into his coat, and Robbie smothers a grin at the hitch in James’ breathing as he takes the opportunity to smooth his hands over the lad’s shoulders under the guise of settling the fit.

They exit the pub and Robbie meets James’ eyes before gently capturing the hand nearest to him. He’s rewarded with a warm smile and James interlacing their fingers together as he turns and heads towards wherever he parked his car.

“You know, there’s one thing that’s been bothering me these past couple of days,” James says conversationally as they walk.

“Oh? What’s that?” Robbie’s proud of how steady his voice is as he replies. His heart is hammering away inside his chest at the feeling of James’ hand in his.

“I cannot, for the life of me, figure out how you know waxing is preferable to shaving.”

It’s so unexpected that Robbie bursts into delighted laughter. “Ah, lad, that’s a story for another time,” he says as the come to a halt next to James’ car. James turns to face him, bum resting on the driver’s side of the car. “But I’ll give you a hint.”

Robbie takes a deep breath, rests one hand on the car as he leans in and croons a few lines from a song in James’ ear.

_Why don't you stay for the night_  
Or maybe a bite  
I could show you my favorite obsession  
I've been making a man  
With blonde hair and a tan  
And he's good for relieving my tension 

He’s close enough to feel James gasp, and pulls back just enough to see James’ eyes. Which have gone wide, and dark, and his voice is a low, low rumble when he breathes out, “No. Way. Not possible.”

Robbie can’t help the wide grin even as he leans closer and murmurs, “Oh, it’s possible all right.”

“You?”

“Me.” He can feel James’ breath on his lips now, and his eyes are sliding closed in anticipation of finally feeling them against his own.

A hope that’s dashed as a passing car leans on the horn and a pair of hooting, obnoxious students hang out the windows and holler at them about getting a room. Robbie slumps against James, whispering a string of words he would never utter in mixed company, and he can feel James laughing as he closes his arms about him in a warm hug. 

Robbie’s phone chooses that moment to go off, and it’s Lyn’s ringtone. He's never actually been unhappy to get a call from his daughter before. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” James says as they reluctantly part. “Give Lyn my love.”

“Sleep well, James,” Robbie says as he pulls the phone from his pocket.

“And you, Robert. Or should I say, ‘Doctor’,” James says with a cheeky grin, opening the car door and folding himself inside.

“Lyn, my darling daughter. How are you?” Robbie says as he turns and starts back towards his own car. If he makes a jump to the left, and then a step to the right as he goes, well, there’s no one he cares about around to see, right? 

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My headcanon is that Val was totally a semi-closeted geek who really enjoyed Rocky Horror Picture Show. I like to think that she talked Robbie into going as Frank-n-Furter to her Columbia one Halloween, though in my head it didn't really take all that much convincing. :D


	5. Chapter 5

The next day is quiet. A brief email from Laxton updating them on her team’s progress with the case aside, Robbie's had very little to do. A few errands, a sandwich for lunch, and now he’s back on the couch with his sketchpad, idly practicing and letting his mind wander.

He’s been noodling at it for about an hour, letting his hands do as they wish as his brain tackles the problem of how to move forward with James. He’s fairly certain that they’re on the same page, given their last few interactions, but he’s also realized that his friendship with James is one of the most important of his entire life.

For a long, intense moment he can see the appeal of doing his thinking with a beer in his hand. He can practically hear Morse talking to him right now. _“Lew-is,” he’d say, exasperated. “Just kiss him already so I don’t have to hear you nattering on like this.”_

But there’s so much to lose if everything goes wrong. And he’s also never even kissed another bloke, let alone done anything else with them.

Robbie reaches out and ever so gently runs his thumb over the lower of the lips he’s just drawn, though he knows he’s supposed to be using the blending tool. It feels right though, to use his own thumb to smudge the charcoal ever so slightly.  And wished with all his heart that he could do it for real, to feel that plump, firm lip under his thumb, James’ breath on his fingers. Or the feel of James’ cheek, the strong line of his James’ jaw and the slight prickling of stubble against the palm of his hand coming in after a long day at work.

Flipping through his sketchbook, Robbie takes a good hard look at what his subconscious has been working out while his brain was occupied.

The entire book is filled with sketches of James and nothing else.

James walking away from him, one hand holding his phone to his ear, and a gust of wind catching the back of his suit jacket, allowing a peek at the very firm rear end so lovingly cradled by his suit trousers.

James sitting on a bench outside the Radcliffe Camera, legs encased in nearly indecently tight denim, knees shyly poking through the rips at the knees. Head tilted back as he exhales a stream of cigarette smoke, and the cigarette in question dangling lazily from slightly stained fingers.

James at his desk at work, tie loosened and a few buttons at his throat undone, hands on the keyboard and those piercing, bright eyes intent as they scan the screen.

James with both hands planted on the edge of that pool where he’d recovered a bullet from the bottom, pushing himself out of the water with ease. The muscles of his upper body standing out in sharp relief, head down and the back of his neck and the tops of his shoulders visible. Another of him moments later, standing and reaching for the towel hanging limply in Robbie’s fingers, head turned towards Lizzie who’s talking to him as water drops slide down his chest. The soaking wet boxers that had substituted for proper swimming trunks clinging to him like a second skin.

In profile, like he could be sitting next to Robbie on this couch, long legs outstretched and resting on the coffee table, wearing the lavender socks that had disappeared from his work wardrobe. Robbie wonders when the lad had decided to favour three piece suits and nothing but a monochrome colour scheme, but he suddenly misses those socks. Curled up asleep under a mountain of blankets, nothing but that very distinctive nose and a shock of unruly blond hair showing from under the covers. Those long, clever fingers tenderly cradling his shockingly expensive guitar.

James. All of it, every single bit of it about James.

Robbie takes a moment to stare at the picture of James; hands on the fretboard of his guitar, and then imagines them tracing patterns on Robbie’s chest. Holding his head steady as they kiss, deeply. How quickly they might make work of his belt and the zipper on Robbie’s trousers. 

What they’d feel like dipping into Robbie’s pants and closing around his cock.

Staring down at his lap and the erection tenting his trousers, it’s obvious that wanting James physically isn’t going to be a problem. And thanks to his conversation with Laura and all this time spent thinking about it in the weeks since they’d broken up, he knows that his heart belongs to James and has for quite some time.

Almost as if he knows Robbie was thinking about him, his phone rings and the caller ID tells him that it’s James.

“Robert.”

“Anything new from Laxton?” Robbie asks, setting the sketchbook aside.

“Just that they’re pretty certain Guy Edwards is the suspect we’re looking for. They’re pulling together a plan for tomorrow night. Julie will email details once they’ve got a plan in place.”

“I’ll be glad when this is over,” Robbie sighs into the phone.

“Bored already?” James teases.

“There’s a reason I came out of retirement, you know. Not that I’m not enjoying the subject matter,” and here Robbie lowers his voice and adds a touch of growl to it. “The model might have made the entire thing worthwhile, come to think of it.”

He can hear a hitch in James’ breath and smiles to himself. God, this back and forth, the tension, the wondering if James feels as he does. It’s maddening. Frustrating.

Dizzying.

“Well, this model was wondering if you’d like to come back to mine after class tomorrow,” James says. “I need to meet with Lizzie today to go over a few things from previous cases, make sure CPS has more than enough for our last few cases. But if you’re free after? Assuming Laxton’s team gets what they need.”

“And here I thought I, as the art student, was the one who was supposed to invite you back to look at my etchings.”

“Well, we can do that too. Bring your sketchbook and if you’re lucky you can draw me like one of your French girls,” James says in a particularly rumbly voice.

“If I read our briefing materials correctly, I’ll have been doing that for hours already by the time the class is over.” 

“Ah, but if you play your cards right, you might get a private, more interactive session,” James teases.

“I’ll make sure to mark the deck,” Robbie says. There’s a long moment of silence as they listen to the other breathing, before Robbie screws up his courage. “James,” he begins only to hear the click of another call interrupting yet again.

“For fuck’s sake,” James swears, then sighs. “It’s Lizzie. I better take this. Until tomorrow, Robert?” His voice is soft, but warm.

“Tomorrow, James,” Robbie replies, nearly whispering.

Well. That’s sorted then.

What the hell is supposed to do with himself between now and the beginning of class tomorrow?

*****

In the end, Robbie spent the time taking a quick trip to the art shop for additional art supplies, buying a few more chamois, erasers and more vine charcoal for his drawing kit, as he had completely underestimated how much he’d enjoy working with the tools. He indulged in a long walk along the river with a stop at the Isis Farmhouse for a pint and a snack and then, because he was feeling optimistic, a trip to the chemist’s. And that evening, he had a heart-to-heart chat with his daughter. 

He’d originally just called to check in, see if there were any new stories about his grandson that she wanted to share. They’d been cut off the night before, when the lad had apparently tried to open a big jar of fingerpaint all on his own and unexpectedly caused a bit of a mess. Lyn was happy to hear from him, relaying the outcome of her son’s artistic adventures, and his heart clenched anew at the knowledge that Val was missing all of it. But he shook off his momentary melancholy when his daughter asked quietly, “Dad, are you all right? You seem a bit distracted this evening. Are you sure you’re not, I don’t know. Upset? About Laura, I mean.”

“Ah, no pet. That’s been over for a while now, and it was the right move for us, breaking up. We weren’t right together.” He pauses for a bit, but soldiers on. “It’s funny that you mention relationships though.”

“Oh really?” Lyn replies. “Someone new in your life?”

“Yes and no,” he says. “I’m not really sure how to explain it,” he says, and takes a sip of his beer, desperately stalling for time to figure out how to say what he needs to say. “I wasn’t really expecting to have this conversation tonight.”

Lyn’s voice is warm as she says, “Finally figured it out with James then? Dad? DAD?” 

Robbie reaches for some tissues that are on the coffee table and mops up from where he’s literally spit out his beer in surprise. Coughing, he gasps into the phone, “One second Lyn. I’m fine. You just surprised me is all.”

“It IS James! Dad! That’s wonderful!” Lyn’s voice is nothing but excited and pleased. “Took you long enough. I know he was your sergeant and all, but he’s not been that for a while now. Honestly, I’d been hoping to hear this ever since you and Laura called it off. So, without the gory details, how’s it going?”

Robbie actually holds the phone away from his ear long enough to look at the screen and confirm that yes, he’s really connected to his daughter, and she’s apparently all for a potential romance between her father and a younger man. “You’d be okay with it, if James and I were seeing one another? In a romantic way, I mean? You’re not, oh I don’t know. Angry? At the idea of me being with another man that way?”

Lyn’s quiet just long enough for Robbie to get nervous about her response. “For a long time, I thought I’d be angry when you started dating again. I don’t know why. I mean, it’s not like your life ended when mum’s did, and I would never want you to be that sad or lonely ever again.” Her voice has a little bit of a quaver in it that tells Robbie she’s fighting tears, but she rallies soon enough. 

“I was awfully happy when you and Laura decided to give it a go. I like her. I’ve always liked her, you know that. But…” And here she trails off.

“But?” Robbie prompts.

“There just wasn’t the same sort of, oh I don’t know. Ease. Between you and Laura. When you were around James, you were more yourself, more the man I remembered you being when you were with mum.”

“I had no idea,” Robbie says, faintly.

“You probably didn’t realize how much the way you talked about him changed over the years. At first when you mentioned him it was very much about work and what an odd duck you found him. But ever since that call when you were walking along, talking to me while sharing an earbud with James and listening to his music? Do you remember that?”

“I do. Been a while, but I do.” James’ music isn’t exactly Robbie’s cup of tea, but it is intriguing, and complex, and he’s found himself listening to the CD when he’s been particularly perplexed by James’ behaviour over the years. Like he could find clues to what the man was thinking in the way he played his guitar.

“You started talking about him more like a friend than a colleague right about then. And the past couple of years? It’s like he’s already family. So no, Dad, I’m not surprised that he’s become a romantic interest lately. He’s been your partner for years. I’m glad to hear that you’ve taken that last step. He’s good for you.”

Robbie’s so touched that he can’t bring himself to speak for a long moment. When he does, his voice is husky with emotion. “Ah, pet. You never stop surprising me.” 

“I hope that’s a good thing,” Lyn says tartly.

“It is. You’re a remarkable woman, my Lyn.”

“Aww, Dad,” she says, putting just enough of a petulant teen whine into her voice to make them both smile.

“You are, however, jumping the gun just a touch. We’re not quite together yet,” he says.

“No? Did I get it wrong?”

“No, you’re right. I’m definitely interested in James. And if we weren’t in the middle of a case I’d say we’d been… dating.” Robbie says the last word slowly, trying it on for size.

“Honestly, Dad, given your history, is it really surprising that the two of you are taking steps towards each other while working a case?”

He chuckles wryly. “Well when you put it that way, no. I think there’s been overtures on both sides. He’s asked me to come to his flat after this last art class tomorrow night.”

“What do you bring if you don’t bring flowers?” Lyn wonders. “You are bringing a gift I hope. Just because you’ve known each other for yonks doesn’t mean you should skimp on the romantic bits.”

“I’m fairly certain he’d appreciate beer more than bluebells or bachelor’s buttons, but maybe I’ll pick up a bouquet on the way. Can’t go wrong with both, right?

Lyn giggles. “That was very alliterative, well done you. No, I don’t think you can go wrong with both. If you’re stopping for flowers, hit up the chemist’s too. If you decide to have penetrative sex, use condoms and more lube than you think you ought to.”

“Bloody hell,” Robbie breathes into the phone. “Lyn Marie Lewis, stop right there, right now. I am not taking gay sex tips from me own daughter.”

He can practically see the cheeky grin on her face as she replies, “I’m a medical professional, father. I just want you to be safe. And sane and consensual.”

“Good _night_ , Lyn.”

“Good night, Dad,” she replies through her laughter. “Give James my love, and I expect to see both of you up here as soon as you can make it. So you can go shopping with me.”

“Shopping?” Robbie asks, puzzled.

“For a new mattress set for the guest room. That thing in there now squeaks something awful if you so much as breathe on it.”

“Tell me I am not having this conversation,” Robbie says as he buries his face in his palm.

“All right, I’ll stop torturing you. For now.” She gets her snickering under control. “I love you, Dad. Be happy. Go get your man."

“I love you too, Lyn. And thank you.”

They ring off and Robbie collapses into the couch with a huge sigh. And then grins like a fool. He’s raised a hell of a daughter, and though the support and approval is rather unexpected, the conversation has put paid to all his doubts about pursing a real relationship with James.

He retires for the evening utterly unconvinced that he’ll sleep for the anticipation of what the next day will bring, but he’s out like a light the moment his head hits the pillow.

*****


	6. Chapter 6

The rest of the time before class goes quite quickly. He wakes later than he expected to, but feels better for the lie in. He nearly contemplates going back to sleep after a leisurely wank in the shower to the memory of the way the fabric of his underwear had stretched across James’ arse, but a call from DS Lockhart puts paid to that. He’s glad it’s a phone call and not an in person visit as he sits on his bed, naked but for his robe, hair dripping cold water down his back and his face on fire even as his voice is as rock steady as usual.

They’ve turned up enough material on Edwards to warrant an invitation down to the station for a chat. Laxton agrees that the man’s behaviour in the past couple of classes is cause for concern. Interviews with his colleagues at the university tell a tale of a man on a downward spiral, erratic and often fuelled by alcohol or other substances. He’s not been sacked just yet but more than one person has mentioned that it’s only a matter of time. He’s shouted at more than one employee, and nearly come to blows with another man over the way he’d treated one of the female staff in the registrar’s office.

With all that, Laxton feels it would be a good idea to have a couple of teams on standby near the building where class is being held tonight. Robbie can’t disagree, and admits that he’d feel better going into class tonight knowing backup is nearby if they need a hand.

The rest of the time flies by. Robbie knows he made lunch in there somewhere, but it feels like he’s just hung up the phone with Julie even as he’s parking his car and heading into the building for class. He’s right on time, and setting up in a space that allows for observation of Edwards when James walks in and Lucy claps her hands for attention.

The rest of the world ceases to exist, however, as soon as James takes a deep breath and drops the robe.

Robbie’d known that this class would be more along the lines of a traditional one, with a nude model. He’d known, but he hadn’t anticipated just how strong a jolt of desire would flood his system at seeing all of James in nothing but his skin. He feels sucker punched, but instead of pain from a fist to the gut, there’s an ache in his groin as his cock fills so quickly he’s lightheaded.

He actually swipes a thumb across his mouth, just to make sure he’s not drooling. It doesn’t help that James turns and looks directly at him at that moment, and the air between them practically crackles and sparks with anticipation.

‘Thank god for Lucy’, Robbie thinks, as she bustles about with her usual professionalism. He absently keeps one ear on her chatter, listening as she provides guidance for both students and model as the class begins. Poses this time start out on the darker end of the emotional spectrum. James curls up into a ball for her prompt of ‘despair’. Robbie finds this one disturbing as because it brings to mind the way James looked at the end of the case that finally broke him. ‘Anguish’ has him standing, hands behind his back, head tilted down so far his neck is practically parallel to the ground. Robbie’s heart hurts, as it’s a posture he’s all too familiar with. He’d seen it before the night Babs Temple held a shotgun to her own chest.

Lucy leads them through a number of other poses, all of which look completely natural and which James handles like a champion, the fact his bits are on display and swinging heavily between his legs apparently causing him no concern whatsoever. They take the usual break, and luckily for Robbie’s sanity, James dons the robe again before padding over to speak with Lucy. Robbie takes advantage of the opportunity to remove himself to the loo, where he adjusts himself in his trousers, splashes very cold water indeed on his face, then runs the water over his wrists for good measure. He even goes so far as to wet a few paper towels to press to the back of his neck in an effort to calm down. Thankfully he’s alone in the facilities, and he lingers as long as he dares before exiting the gents, skirting a wide path around the cluster of women apparently weighing in on James’ charms. He walks faster when he hears Gloria pipe up with a cheeky comment about him, and darts through the door well ahead of the ladies when Lucy brings them back to attention.

He has just enough time to note that Edwards has moved his chair as far towards the back of the room and away from the model platform as possible before they resume.

All the effort Robbie put into cooling off is obliterated though when Lucy calls out ‘desire’ as the prompt for the long pose of the evening. It’s the last one, and James situates himself like he’s lying on a mattress. Sprawled with his legs out and open, leaning on one elbow, one hand lying against his leg in a manner that suggests he’s reaching out toward something.

Or someone. It doesn’t escape Robbie’s notice that James has positioned himself so that he’s facing Robbie. And proceeds to gaze, unwaveringly, squarely at Robbie for the length of the pose.

It’s fine, at first. Heaven knows that with James’ groin aimed right at him, there’s plenty to look at and try to capture on paper.

Robbie’s captivated by the line of his hip, the space where James’ leg joins his torso, and he can feel himself salivating at the thought of sinking his teeth into that spot and wondering what sort of sound James might make if he did. Robbie can’t stop just looking at all that skin on display, the rise and fall of James’ chest as he breathes, his tight little nipples and the way his sack is resting against the creamy, unblemished skin of his inner thigh. He wants to run his charcoal stained fingers all over that skin, leaving visible trails, marks of ownership telling the world that this man is all his. He wonders, whimsically, if James would allow him to scrawl “Property of Robbie Lewis” across one of his arse cheeks, then shifts uncomfortably in his chair at the throb in his cock at the thought of staring down at his mark as he pounds James into his bed.

After his eyes have had their fill of James’ skin, Robbie turns his attention towards James’ pubic hair. It’s darker than Robbie imagined it would be, given how fair his hair is when he lets it grow longer than a centimetre or two. Robbie wants to shove his face into it so he can breathe deeply, pulling the scent of the man into his lungs.

His cock is absolutely stupendous. Robbie has to bite his lip, hard, to prevent the moan he can feel rising in his chest from escaping. He wants to close his fingers around it, feel the weight of it on his tongue. Feel it possessing him, slowly filling him up so there’s no space left inside for anything but James. Not in his body, his mind, his heart or his soul. And as James continues to stare directly at Robbie, it starts to get hard.

It doesn’t escape anyone’s notice, given the whispers and titters from the students and frankly given the size of the anatomy in question it’d be impossible to miss it. The flush that had started at James’ cheekbones and has swept down over his neck and chest is captivating, and it grows darker even as he grows more and more erect.

Lucy, bless her soul, takes it in stride. “Now, now everyone. We are all adults here, and creativity can be very stimulating. This is hardly the first time a model’s reacted in such a way, and I seriously doubt it’ll be the last.”

Robbie barely hears her over the sound of his own heartbeat, pounding away in his ears in response to seeing James like this. He can’t look away, and his fingers, previously so busy capturing every angle, every long, smooth line of bone and muscle, slows and eventually comes to a complete stop.

But he can’t look away. The space between them fills with anticipation, thickening and growing heavier as they continue to stare at one another, holding an entire conversation without saying a word. The flare of James’ nostrils as his eyes, dark with want, trace a leisurely path down Robbie’s body. The slow sweep of his tongue over his lower lip practically advertises his longing, even as his cock grows so hard the foreskin is no longer covering the head and it’s bobbing up against his belly.

Robbie’s nearly as turned on, though thankfully due to the way he’s sitting, the only outward sign of his hunger for James is the flush he can feel on his own face. But even as he’s nearly drowning in lust, he’s even more affected by the fact of what James is doing. One of the most private men he’s ever known is broadcasting his feelings to a room full of strangers, and in this moment he’s more naked than the simple removal of clothing could account for. Robbie’s humbled by this open display of emotion, and he does his best to convey his awe and wonder at the gift James has given him through his own expression, his own gaze.

And the love. His heart is overflowing with love for this complicated man, and he knows James can see it when his eyes widen briefly in astonishment before his face softens just a touch, and a slight smile graces his face even as his eyes dip briefly, shyly, before rising once more to meet Robbie’s.

It’s always been the little things between them. Tonight’s marvellously grand gesture aside, Robbie knows everything he needs to know in that little exchange. A question’s been asked, and answered, and they’re both certain that the other is ready to move on to the next phase of their partnership. The heat is building between the two of them once more when Lucy calls time on the pose and they finish the class. Everyone is very professional though there are a few good natured giggles when James makes a face and stiffly, awkwardly rises from his position, smoothly reaching for the robe and covering up before waving to Lucy and exiting the room.

There’s a lot of good natured mingling and chatter as everyone gathers their things. Robbie smiles absentmindedly at a few people, responding on autopilot, as his eyes scan the room. Edwards has managed to slip away without him noticing, and he takes a moment to text Julie with his concern before he crosses over to thank Lucy for her time.

“I just know there’s another reason for you taking this class, but I do hope you’ll keep up with your sketching, Robbie,” she says, resting a hand on his arm. “I truly do think you’ve got a talent that could be developed, and I hope to see you in another one of my classes some day soon.”

“Do you know I’ve gotten quite a lot more out of this class than I thought I would?” Robbie says.

"I’m sure you have. And his name is James, and you should wait for him. The room set aside for the models as a dressing room is just down the hall, third door on the right.” She leaves him with a nudge and a wink, floating over to speak with Gloria and the football mum. Robbie just shakes his head, hefts his bag on his shoulder, and heads out through the door he’d seen James exit through.

The lighting in the hallway is poor, and the hollow sound of his own footsteps echoing in the empty space sends a chill of unease down his spine. He reaches the door, and frowns when he finds it open more than a crack. Robbie raps a knuckle against the wood.

“James? Are you in here?”

No response, and Robbie takes five seconds to shoot another text to Laxton, typing faster with his thumbs than James would ever give him credit for, asking her to bring a team ASAP before pocketing his phone and pushing open the door. The room is dark, and Robbie cautiously slides through, making sure the door stays open behind himself. “James?”

Two more steps in and he can see James lying on the floor. Robbie darts a look around the room, but doesn’t see anything and he swiftly crosses to his fellow Inspector. “James!”

Robbie has just a moment to see James' jeans and underwear pulled down over his thighs, and the syringe sticking out of James’ shoulder before he senses someone coming up rapidly behind him. He turns, but he’s not fast enough and something catches him hard on the side of the head. Through the explosion of pain, he feels someone drop something over his head and he has just enough time to bring a hand up before Edwards does his very best to strangle him. There’s a knee hard in his back and someone’s pulling him backward and off balance.

“I knew you’d come in here,” Edwards’ voice hisses in his ear. “Such a sickening display in that farce of a class. You just couldn’t wait to get in here and sample that arse. Well, you’re going to have to wait in line,” he says, continuing to pull Robbie off balance, not allowing him to regain his feet or get any leverage with which to shake the man off. “I’ll not thank you for interrupting me. Do you like this belt? It’s the one I’ve just removed from around my waist in preparation for showing that man exactly what he’s good for. Disgusting fairies, the both of you.”

Robbie struggles harder, slamming the elbow of his free arm backwards and into Edwards’ gut. The man grunts in pain, but continues trying to tighten the belt around Robbie’s throat. “What have you given him?” he gasps out.

“Oh, he’ll come around soon enough. It’s just a little sedative. He can hear every word we’re saying, he just can’t move very quickly.” Sure enough, Robbie can see James stirring, but he’s not going to be of any help. Robbie’s going to run out of air long before the sedative wears off.

“Outrageous poof, but look at that arse. I was looking forward to a female model, so I could sample her charms. Like those other women. All of them thinking they’re so much better than me. Just like my wife, the lousy whore. I’m not into men, but he’ll do. I bet he’s even tighter than a virgin schoolgirl.”

Robbie manages to kick out and hit the desk hard enough for a lamp to fall to the floor with a shattering crash. That should draw some attention, either from the officers that should be on their way or from anyone still in the building from class. Edwards continues to rant in Robbie’s ear, and he’s so caught up in relating the horrifying things he plans to do to both James and Robbie that he fails to hear the light, quick footsteps running down the hallway towards the room they’re in. Robbie renews his struggles, trying to keep the mad man’s attention on him long enough for the cavalry to arrive

He succeeds. The pressure around his throat releases so suddenly he pitches forward and nearly brains himself on the corner of the desk. He turns and sees Julie facing off against Edwards, who shakes out the belt menacingly, holding it like a whip, but she remains calm and identifies herself as a police officer.

Edwards doesn’t wait to hear why they’re arresting him before he lashes out at Julie with the belt. She effortlessly leans out of way, then takes the man down so smoothly and easily Robbie would almost feel sorry for the bastard if he wasn’t gasping for breath.

Julie has the man on his knees facing away from them, and her cuffs out. “I’ve got him, Inspector Lewis. Check on Inspector Hathaway?”

Robbie’s grateful for her discretion as he crawls over to James on hands and knees. He gently removes the syringe, and sets it to the side so SOCO can add it to the evidence log. He tugs James’ jeans and pants back up over his bum, taking a moment to thank a god he doesn’t believe in that the lad has chosen a loose pair tonight and not the sausage casings he’s been known to wear previously, before rolling him to his side in a recovery position. Robbie swiftly removes his jacket and tucks it under James’ head.

“I’m here, James.”

More officers burst into the room, two of them taking charge of Edwards even as Julie calls for an ambulance. Call completed, she turns her attention to the two senior officers in the room and does a cursory medical check on them both. “Pulse elevated for both of you, but that’s understandable. His breathing is fine, if slow, and his pupils dilated but he’s responsive. You, however, I’m a bit concerned about,” she says to Robbie. “I think you’ve probably got a mild concussion, and I’m a bit worried about your throat.”

Robbie waves her off. He knows what a concussion feels like, and while his head hurts like hell, he’ll live. His throat feels hot, and he figures he’s going to have some fairly spectacular bruises later, but he’ll be fine until the medics arrive and tells Julie exactly that.

She frowns at Robbie, exasperated. One of the uniforms catches her attention and tells her the medics are two minutes out. “Fine, but don’t move.” She retrieves James’ own coat from where it’s fallen and gently drapes it over him before squeezing his hand. “Hang in there, Inspector Hathaway. You’ll be fine, I promise.”

In the end, they both get a trip to A&E. James has a nice nap, courtesy of the fairly short acting sedative Edwards has given him. But aside from some minor bruises from rough handling, and those obtained when he fell to the floor after being stuck with the syringe, physically he’s fine. He’ll have a bit of soreness around the injection site for a couple of days, but he wakes with no lingering effects from the drug. 

Robbie slumps in relief at Julie’s report, even as he winces when the nurse scrubs at the cut on his head a little too vigorously with antiseptic. Turns out Robbie was right about his injuries, and the knock on his head, while painful, is just under the line for a concussion. No stitches, just a good cleaning, a bit of glue to hold the cut closed, and some extra strength painkillers for the headache. His other injuries are fairly mild as well, just bruising to his back, neck, and hand, though the doctor who examines him says if Edwards had put just a little more pressure on his throat, the resulting swelling could have been a serious problem indeed. His voice will probably sound hoarse for a few days, and his hand sore, but other than that he’s fine. He’s instructed to keep a log of symptoms, and is to return immediately if he has severe difficulty in swallowing or feels his breathing is restricted in any way.

“I’d feel better releasing you if I knew you’d have someone to keep an eye on you,” the doctor says, frowning at him. 

“He can stay with me,” James says as he materializes at Robbie’s bedside.

She eyes him doubtfully. “I suppose the two of you can keep an eye on each other in that case.”

Been doing it for years,” Robbie whispers with a small smile at James.

“Ready, sirs?” Julie says as she pokes her head in through the doorway. “If so, I’ll take you back to Hathaway’s flat. If you’re feeling up to it, I can take a your statements this evening.”

James shoots Robbie a questioning look, and Robbie nods. “He might have to write his out, but I think we’d both rather get it out of the way. I for one would dearly love to sleep in tomorrow.”

Julie grins at him and opens the door with a flourish. “After you then. Oh, and Inspector Lewis, I grabbed your bag for you,” she hands it over with a nod. “I didn’t open the sketchbook, just took a quick look to confirm that there wasn’t anything that would need to be logged as evidence.”

Robbie nearly staggers with relief. The sketchbook he’d brought to class tonight had been brand new, but there’s still enough sketches of James in the nude to be a potential source of embarrassment for both of them. James, because it’s one thing to strip to the skin in front of people he’ll likely never see again, and another to have his fellow officers gawking over naked pictures of one of their station’s Inspectors. And for Robbie, well. His sketches reveal a hell of a lot more information than he’d like available to some of the more close-minded tossers down at the station. His feelings about his former bagman are right there for any and everyone to see, if they care to look.

Though he’ll admit that the one with James fully erect and smouldering at him isn’t such a bad thing for some of them to view. Rather a different picture of the dishy Inspector than most get to see. Wouldn’t hurt to boost the lad’s reputation in some quarters, and there’s more than a tiny part of him that’s filled with glee at the idea of James getting a bit more positive attention.

He’s that impressive. Not just physically speaking, and Robbie had faithfully replicated what he saw and hadn’t exaggerated in the slightest. But somehow, even with his middling art talent, the intensity of that look came through loud and clear in the sketch.

He shivers even now at the memory. He’s seen the lad’s laser focus regularly, after all. James is a gifted detective, and his ability to shut out all distractions and turn the formidable power of that great brain of his to the puzzles at hand is one of his most obvious strengths. He knows he’s appreciated it nearly every day they were together. Innocent certainly appreciated that focus and the contribution it made to their solve rate, especially after that all-nighter on the Chloe Brooks case that resulted in the discovery of the identity behind a string of murders spanning nearly a decade.

Robbie can’t wait to discover what it will feel like to have all that focus, all that intelligence and attention centred squarely on him in a non-work setting. Specifically, in bed.

In bed where the two of them should be now, given he isn’t feeling too wonderful and James looks dead on his feet for all that he’s been unconscious and basically resting for part of the evening.

“Thanks, Julie.”

She simply smiles in response and leads the way to where she’s parked her car.

Julie’s swift and businesslike about taking their statements, once they’ve arrived at James’ flat, and leaves them with an admonishment to get some rest. She mentions Innocent’s sent both of them an email saying they’re not to come in to the station to resume their regular duties until she notifies them. So for now, they’ve got at least tomorrow, if not the day after as well, off work.

James sees her out, and shuts door gently behind her. Robbie stands and stretches, wincing a bit. “I don’t know about you, but I’m knackered,” he whispers to James, mindful of his throat.

“Your overnight bag is still in the spare room,” James responds. “But the doctor said you should be monitored, in case there are any issues with your breathing tonight. We could share a bed? That way I won’t have to wake you, coming and going at regular intervals.”

“Works for me. I’d like to shower before I turn in though,” Robbie says quietly through another yawn.

“OK. You go on and use the bathroom first and I’ll close up down here.”

The familiar bedtime rituals are calming, though Robbie padding into James’ bedroom and sliding between his sheets is new. James appears at the doorway, rubbing his hair dry with a towel, wearing boxers and an old band T-shirt. Robbie’s wearing much the same, though his T-shirt is a plain gray one, a favourite worn babysoft with age and use.

The situation has the potential to be all kinds of awkward, but they’re both so tired that he just barely registers the feeling of James sliding under the covers and the warmth of another body beside him, and James whispering, “Good night, my Robert” before he allows Morpheus to take him down to a deep, deep sleep filled with surprisingly pleasant dreams.

*****


	7. Chapter 7

Robbie wakes alone the next morning, and does a quick status check. His bruises are all throbbing, and he winces a bit as he flexes his hand, but he feels better than he probably has any right to. He smiles, faintly, at the memory of being woken a few times in the night, and savours the impression of the last couple of concussion checks being performed with a warm, firm body snugged up against his back. He can hear James in the kitchen, the appealing scent of bacon is wafting through the flat, and his bladder informs him it’s long past time for a visit to the loo. He slides out of bed, making a face at himself in that ridiculous, gigantic mirror taking up nearly the entire wall at the end of James’ bed, before he heads into the bathroom to take care of the usual morning necessities. He winces at the lurid bruising coming up around his throat when he glances in the mirror above the sink, but it’s honestly not as bad as it could be. Maybe Innocent will understand if he goes without a tie for the next week or so at work, as he doesn’t relish the idea of something noose-like pressed right up against those bruises until they heal a bit more.

It’s odd, he reflects as he shrugs into the dressing gown hanging on the back of the bedroom door, then heads to the kitchen. He’s never thought he’s particularly chatty, but the pain in his throat and the doctor’s admonishment not to speak above a whisper if at all possible means he can’t even say, “Good morning,” when he reaches the warmth and light of the kitchen. Luckily James hears him coming, and turns with a smile.

A smile that promptly fades when James takes in the bruising. “Good Lord, Robert. Should they have released you? Maybe we should return to the hospital.”

Robbie smiles at his friend, and shakes his head. He gestures towards the eggs which are looking a bit more done that usual, and James swears and slides the pan off the heat. “I mean it. That looks terrible.”

In answer, Robbie simply holds up a tube of arnica they’d gotten from the pharmacy at the Radcliffe, as well as a bottle of painkillers he’d been prescribed. He mimes putting the gel on, taking the meds, and then steals a piece of bacon in full view of James, who gently smacks the offending hand with the spatula in admonishment when he reaches for a second.

“Have you put the gel on yet?” James asks. At Robbie’s headshake of no, James nods. “Right. This’ll keep for a moment. I can help with that, if you like?”

Robbie hands him the tube in answer and sits at his usual spot at the table, though at an angle so it’s easy for James to sit in the chair at the end, facing him.

James is intent as he squeezes a bit of the gel onto his fingers and reaches out to place them against Robbie’s pulse point. Robbie can’t help but hiss a bit, as the gel is cool against the heat of the bruise.

“Sorry, was that too firm?” James asks. “I don’t want to hurt you further.”

Robbie shakes his head gently, and pats James' hand. *You’re all right. It was just a bit cold* he mouths, though he does draw a quick breath as James eyes drop to his mouth to read his lips. The gaze lingers, and the touch on his throat becomes less therapeutic and more sensual. Robbie’s breathing deepens and his eyes drift closed even as he raises his chin to make more room, exposes more skin for James to touch. 

James shifts closer, setting the tube down on the tabletop and gently burying the hand not smeared with gel in Robbie’s hair.

Robbie’s glad that they’re in a familiar environment for this first kiss, with no one around to interrupt them. He leans closer, and their lips are finally about to touch when James’ stomach lets loose with a startling loud growl, and the smoke detector goes off. The toast is burning because the switch got stuck. He’d mentioned it to James before, when he’d moved into his new flat, and Robbie had stayed over in the guest room after helping with the boxes and placing all the furniture. He’d woken before James that morning, and managed to pull together a mostly edible breakfast. But the toast had been a bit more well done than he’d intended. James had laughed it off saying he was barely home enough to make breakfast. He said he’d get around to it later, but he obviously hasn’t made the time.

They laugh, James runs his thumb over Robbie’s lower lip in a startling mirror of Robbie’s own thoughts just a day or two ago, and he says, “Hold that thought,” as he briefly presses their foreheads together before turning to deal with the obnoxious shrieking.

Breakfast is surprisingly comfortable. There’s a delicious anticipation thrumming just under the surface, and James makes heated eye contact more often than ever before. And Robbie’s fairly sure he’d have noticed if James had ever before eaten his breakfast quite so… sensually.

It’s been a long, ridiculously slow build to this next stage of their relationship. Robbie’s thoughtful, as he works on clearing his plate. In what feels like no time at all, breakfast is eaten, and he stands to take the dishes to the sink. James joins him at the counter, and their warm wet hands continue the flirtation as James passes Robbie clean items to dry.

“Heard from Laxton,” James says as he takes a break from teasing Robbie. “Edwards is telling them everything, in between bouts of homophobic ranting. Apparently his wife’s behaviour over the years finally got to him. He started taking out his anger on people he felt were rubbing his nose in their superiority. Or women he’d approached who had rejected him. It’s apparently hard to follow, but they’re working him and are slowly tying all the cases together. Julie was right - it was the same man, and that man is Edwards. Our obvious… connection,” and here James blushes but he soldiers on manfully, “was too much for him to bear and he decided I was a good enough substitution for his usual victims.”

Robbie sighs, shaking his head. He’s not surprised, and he’s glad they’ve gotten some closure for the victims, but it’s always damn sad to see it come to this. “You doing okay? After your assault? I imagine listening to his plans for you while we were grappling wasn’t pleasant.”

“I’m fine,” James says. “Really, I am,” he insists at Robbie’s searching look. “It wasn’t pleasant, and I’m man enough to admit that I felt bloody horrible lying there, arse up and unable to move, but I knew you’d come. Took an extra shower this morning, and imagined washing the feeling of his hands away. It helped.” He sidles a bit closer and leans down to whisper in Robbie’s ear. “But you know what would make me feel even better?”

“If you start singing Marvin Gaye, James, you’re sleeping alone tonight,” Robbie whispers fiercely in response, swatting James lightly on the rear with his kitchen towel. James dances away, laughing, eyes bright. 

Eventually though, they run out of things with which to distract themselves, and Robbie is more than ready when James reaches for his hand. “Are we really going to do this? After all these years?”

“I think we are,” Robbie whispers as he pulls James close. “You sure you want to get into a relationship with a broken down old copper?”

“I’ve been waiting for this for years, as I know you know,” James says, smiling, as he reaches out and tugs on the knot of the tie holding the dressing gown closed. “You look good wearing my clothes. Did I mention that? Not broken down at all.” He tugs, gently, the tie comes loose and James slides his hands into the space, gently worming his way under Robbie’s T-shirt to caress bare skin. “Sure you want to get into a relationship with a conflicted ex-seminarian and too-dedicated detective?”

Robbie dips his fingers into the back of James’ waistband, and smiles slowly at the shiver this provokes. “You know what I’ve come to realize these past few months?”

“What’s that?” James mumbles against Robbie’s temple where he’s been nuzzling the patch of grey hair.

“Took me a bit of time,” Robbie says, and he lifts his head from where he’s been gently rubbing his lips against James’ jaw so he can see James' eyes. “But I finally figured out that Laura was my transition person.”

He can see the moment James realizes what he’s said. He can practically see the cogs turning in that huge brain as James sorts through his memories, trying to find the connection, the reason why those words are so familiar. And Robbie knows the lad’s got it when he smiles down into Robbie’s eyes. “The case at Crevecoeur. Linda Grahame. Are you saying that I’m ultimately ‘the one’?”

“Aye, lad. ‘The heart chooses’.” James smiles as he hears his own words coming out of Robbie’s mouth. “I’m sorry it took so long for me to see what was right in front of me this whole time.” Robbie says quietly, sliding a hand up James’ chest until he gets a hand behind his neck. “You might have to be patient with me. I’ve never done this before.”

James playfully rubs the tip of his nose against Robbie’s. “What, kissed someone?”

“I’ve kissed a few people I’ve loved, but never a bloke,” Robbie says, lips tingling in anticipation. 

“Lizzie tells me I’m a pretty good teacher, once I can be bothered to share,” James says as he dips his head. “I’ve never kissed someone I love as much as I love you though. So maybe we can teach each other.” 

“James?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up and kiss me,” Robbie whispers, reaching up to brush his lips against that gorgeous, tempting mouth.

“Yes, sir,” James mumbles right before he finally takes Robbie’s mouth with his own.

It’s sweet, and soft, and fairly innocent. For the span of a couple of heartbeats. Then one or the other of them moans, and Robbie pulls James closer by the back of his neck and practically devours him as he abandons all thought and surrenders to desire. He drags his mouth hard against James’, biting not-so-gently at that sinfully full lower lip before soothing the sting with his tongue. James moans, shockingly loud, and Robbie takes advantage, sliding his tongue into James’ mouth as he begins tongue fucking him in earnest.

James, though, isn’t idle. He’s managed to wrestle the dressing gown off Robbie’s shoulders, though he gives up on his attempts to get to skin in favour of sucking on Robbie’s tongue. Robbie shakes off the dressing gown, and James takes advantage by steering them towards a handy wall, pinning Robbie with his body as he deepens the kiss. He slides a knee between Robbie’s own, pressing their hips together.

They both groan at the sensation, cocks rubbing hard against each other through the thin fabric of their pants. “Fucking hell,” James swears, grinding into Robbie again and again. “I couldn’t stop thinking about this last night, lying there in front of all those people,” he says into Robbie’s ear. Robbie presses his head into the wall, lifting his chin to give James room as he drags his lips down Robbie’s neck to press not-so-gentle kisses against the bruising there. “What you’d taste like. How you’d feel.”

“I could tell. We could all tell, but it was bloody difficult not to just drop everything and join you,” Robbie pants. “Laid out there like a feast, waiting for me to gorge myself on every single bit of you.” He pushes his hips up hard, and manages to turn the tables on James, flipping them so James is the one pressed against the wall now. “Had to actually make sure I wasn’t drooling on myself, watching you get hard.”

James moans and arches, hips undulating. “You nibble on your lower lip when you’re thinking, you know. I kept imagining what your mouth would feel like around my cock,” he says as Robbie tugs at his T-shirt, pulling it over James’ head, dropping it to the floor as he runs his hands from James' collarbones to his hips and back up, flicking his thumbs over the tempting nipples on display on the way. James shudders hard, and Robbie grins a bit evilly. 

“Sensitive?”

“Ye—aahh! Yes!” James squeaks as Robbie lowers his lips to one nipple and sucks hard. He works it with his tongue, using his teeth to excellent effect, switching between the two until he has James writhing against the wall. James is moving around so much it’s hard to keep hold of him, and Robbie’s hands slip from his hips, catching the waistband of James’ shorts along the way.

“Off. Off! Oh god, please,” James chants, and Robbie thoughtfully thumbs the damp spot on the fabric where James is already leaking a bit. He can feel him, hard and hot behind the fabric, straining towards Robbie’s hand.

“Bed? And then you’re going to show me how well you can really beg. I am going to take you apart,” Robbie says, voice rough with desire.

James whines, and nods eagerly. Robbie pushes him back against the wall with one hand, and James subsides long enough for Robbie to slide the boxers down over his hips with the other. James shimmies a bit and the fabric slides down the length of those long, long legs, landing in a puddle at his feet.

And it’s almost like they’re back in that room from last night. James, naked, cock standing proud and leaking a bit, panting, eyes dark. Robbie’s still clothed, but he’s tenting his own boxers, and James reaches for him with a sigh.

“No. Touch me again and we’ll be doing this on the kitchen floor, and I want a softer surface for what I’ve got planned for you,” Robbie growls.

James has to close his eyes and breathe hard for a moment, but then peels himself off the wall and heads towards the bedroom without a backward glance. Robbie follows, eyes greedily taking in the sight of those pale cheeks leading the way, and abandons his own clothes along the way. He stops in the doorway, leaning against the frame with one hand while he deals with his remaining sock and watches as James rips open the nightstand drawer and rummage within.

“Oh, no. No no no!” James says, scrabbling a bit frantically. “Damn it! I could have sworn I put them in here.”

Robbie stops cold, sock dropping from his hand. “No supplies? Fuck, I left the chemist’s bag at my place.”

They stare at each other in dismay, then James falls back on the bed with a burst of laughter. “Planning to get a shag off me, were you?”

Robbie huffs a laugh and crawls onto the bed, hovering over a giggling James on all fours. “It’s not like I was wrong now, was I?”

“I’m sure we can come up with an alternative,” James says, reaching for Robbie eagerly. 

Robbie covers James with his body, and they both groan at the sensation of skin meeting skin for the first time, and then Robbie dips his head to lick his way back into James’ mouth and time loses all meaning His world narrows to the feel of James’ tongue stroking his, then the sound of his breath as he throws his head back and pants, hips moving, rubbing his cock against Robbie’s. Their hands never stop moving, stroking, gripping.

James pushes against Robbie’s shoulder and he obligingly rolls to his back, breathing hard and arching up into James. Who grins down at him wickedly. “I never thought I’d get to do this,” James pants in his ear before kissing his way to Robbie’s shoulder. “God, you have no idea how many nights I spent, wanking to thoughts of you in my cold, lonely bed.”

Robbie opens his mouth to tell James he’s done the same but all that comes out is a wordless exclamation as a curious tongue flickers over his own nipples. James doesn’t linger though, sliding down Robbie’s body, leaving a trail of kissing, nipping here and there gently with his teeth, then using his tongue to soothe the sting.

James nuzzles Robbie’s cock where it’s resting against his belly, before he buries his nose in the curls at Robbie’s groin. Breathing deeply, he licks his way down the crease where his thigh meets his groin as he gently rolls Robbie’s balls in one hand. He glances up at Robbie, eyebrow arching, then smoothly grasps the base of Robbie’s cock, holding it still so he can curl his tongue around the head. 

“God bless your oral fixation,” Robbie breathes out. The resulting vibrations as James chuckles has Robbie arching up, a strangled sound escaping as James takes the opportunity wrap his mouth around Robbie’s cock, taking him deeply.

Robbie manages to pull himself together enough to rise up on his elbows so he can watch James blow him. The sight of that mouth stretched around him, James’ eyes heavy-lidded with desire as he works up and down the shaft, is one that will be with him until his dying day. They stare at one another, and Robbie reaches out to run his fingers through James’ hair. James hums in appreciation, and Robbie swears vehemently, then gently pushes James' head away. “Keep that up and this’ll be over much too quickly. I’m not done with you yet,” he says, and James smiles, running his tongue over his lips.

“You taste good,” James purrs, and Robbie pulls him up to kiss him again, kissing the smirk off his face and moaning at the taste of himself in James' mouth.

“Brat,” Robbie says affectionately when they break apart.

“Am not,” James replies, and Robbie’s eyes narrow. He runs his hands gently down James’ ribs, and watches as the man’s eyes go wide. “Oh no you don’t,” he says even as he flinches away when Robbie’s fingers skate over a particularly sensitive area. “Oi!” he shouts as he squirms away from questing fingers.

“I’ve wondered about that,” Robbie says, but then has to scoot back as James’ hands start searching for his own ticklish spots.

They wrestle good naturedly, laughing into a kiss, and Robbie manages to flip James over on his stomach, pinning him with a hand between his shoulder blades. James is laughing too hard to break the hold, but he tries, and Robbie playfully reaches out and smacks him on the bum to try to quell him.

“Unh!” The exclamation is startled, and James freezes. Robbie reaches out to run apologetic fingers over the slightly reddened area, and James shivers, hard. He pushes up off the bed, twisting to look at Robbie over his shoulder. He swallows hard, and his voice is rough when he says, “Do that again?”

Robbie nearly swallows his own tongue, but nods. He changes his grip a bit, hand sliding up to cover the back of James’ neck, then hauls back and smacks James hard on his other arse cheek.

James’ moans, loudly. His thighs quiver, and he pulls his knees up under himself, sliding them apart a bit and tilting his hips so his bum is presented to Robbie.

“I didn’t know,” James says, eyes wide. He holds Robbie’s gaze as best he can as he lowers his chest to the bed. The muscles in his back are twitching, and Robbie takes a moment to run his hand down the line of his spine before returning it to James’ nape. “Please?” James says quietly.

The crack of his palm against James’ flesh is loud, but the sounds coming from James, the quiet exclamations and whimpers that result from each smack are intoxicating. The pendulous swing of his sack, and the way the head of James’ cock drags along the blanket underneath, the way he rocks back to meet each blow makes him aware of how much his own dick is throbbing. But it’s too good to stop. Robbie loses track of how many times he spanks James, but the skin is red and feels hot to the touch when he pauses for a moment, running both hands over that glorious arse, massaging the cheeks and watching as the most private part of James is exposed, then hidden again.

He turns his hands a bit, so his thumbs can rub up and down the sides of where James is split. There’s a bit too much drag, and his mouth is flooded with saliva. He doesn’t think before he spits, aiming for James’ hole, but they both moan as he hits his mark. Robbie can’t help dragging his thumbs up to rub over that spot, gently but repeatedly, spreading the moisture.

“Oh, my god,” James says quietly, but emphatically. He’s twisted again so he can look at Robbie, and his eyes are dark, the blue nearly swallowed by how wide his pupils have gone.

“Spread your knees, and tell me if you want me to stop,” Robbie breathes as he scoots down the bed, lying down on his belly. James complies, and Robbie rises on his elbows, reaching up and holding James’ cheeks apart, before placing his mouth on the spot where his thumbs had been. He places a sucking sort of kiss on James' hole, and grins when James collapses back to the bed with a wordless shout. He pauses for just a moment, evaluating how he feels about what he’s doing, but gives a mental shrug, and sets about taking James apart with his tongue.

And he does. Robbie varies the pressure of his tongue, soft, sloppy licks across the crinkled skin, getting everything nice and wet before making his tongue into a hard point, pressing in, fucking James with it. James relaxes into the sensation, and Robbie’s able to work his tongue further in, fucking James with his tongue. He retreats after a bit, placing sucking kisses along James’ perineum, and it doesn’t take long before James is begging, pleading with him not to stop.

James’ chest is flat on the bed, his legs spread as wide as he can get them, and he’s reached around to hold himself open for Robbie, reduced to wordless moans and whimpers as he humps back onto Robbie’s face and forward into the bed. Robbie looks up briefly, and his eyes widen when he sees himself in the mirror across from the foot of James’ bed. It’s unbearably exciting, watching himself eating James’ arse like it’s the best meal he’s ever had. 

His attention is brought back to James when he grits out, “So close. Don’t stop, please.” He howls in wordless protest as Robbie pulls back, bringing a hand down to tug James’ balls down from where they’ve drawn up tight against his body.

“Oh no you don’t. Not yet. Up. Up on your knees, James,” Robbie says once James has gotten himself under control.

Robbie himself rises to his knees and helps James pull himself up so that he’s sitting on his heels, leaning back against Robbie. He’s quivering, a fine tremor running through his muscles, though his thighs are shaking. He’s breathing hard, flushed to his nipples and his mouth cherry red from Robbie’s kisses and where he’s been biting his lips in an effort to keep all those gorgeous little sounds he can’t help making behind them. His cock is an angry red, swollen and leaking and so hard it’s standing up against his belly again, smearing fluid against his skin.

“Christ, lad, look at you,” Robbie says wonderingly as his hands stroke over that heaving chest, caressing every bit of skin he can see. “Open your eyes. And look.”

James does, and his eyes go wide as he sees his reflection. “Look at what you’ve done to me,” he breathes out on a sigh, and his eyes snap shut when Robbie’s hand finally closes around him.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Robbie says into his ear. “I’ve always thought so. Always.” He continues murmuring to James as he slowly starts to stroke him. “You have no idea,” he pants. “No idea how many times I nearly quit so I could tumble you into the nearest bed without compromising us both.” He drops a kiss on the nearest shoulder. “I wasn’t brave enough. But you were, last night, weren’t you?" He presses closer to James, nudging him up on his knees a bit so that he can ride the slick space he’s left between James’ cheeks. His cock nestles in between like it was made to be there, and he gently starts thrusting in time with his strokes. Robbie’s leaking now too, and the additional slick helps ease the way. 

“You look incredible, but you feel amazing,” Robbie says, and James trembles. “My brave, canny lad. Last night was the last time anyone else gets to see you like this.” He lets go of James, taking his weight against his own chest as he reaches up to sink one hand into the hair on his head. He grips it firmly, and tugs gently. James complies with the unspoken demand with a sigh, arching his neck and tilting his head so his throat is exposed. “No one gets to see my James like this ever again. No one but me.”

James opens his eyes and meets Robbie’s in the mirror. “Robert,” he sighs as his hips start moving.

“No. Say my name, James. Be mine,” he says as he strokes James faster.

“Robbie,” James moans. “Yours. Oh god, yours, Robbie. For as long as you’ll have me.”

It has all the solemnity of a vow, and Robbie’s voice is thick as he chokes out, “Forever then, James. My James. Mine,” and his hand moves faster and James is suddenly arching, crying out and coming hard, spilling hot and slick over Robbie’s fist, whimpering with each spurt.

Robbie can’t hold back at the sight of James in rapture in the mirror, and muffles his own cry of completion by sinking his teeth into James’ neck as he spills all over the hot, slick skin of his lower back. He loses himself in the pleasure, clinging hard to James, helplessly riding each pulse with a breathy whine.

There’s nothing but the sound of their laboured breathing for long moments before James goes limp and they topple over onto their sides.

Robbie would like nothing more than to let himself surrender to unconsciousness, but he forces himself up on unsteady legs and staggers to the bathroom. He washes his face and makes liberal use of James’ mouthwash before he wets a couple of flannels with warm water. He wipes himself up a bit, tosses the used flannel in the sink and wobbles his way back to the bed where he gently cleans James up too.

Robbie drops the damp cotton on a corner of the rug, out of the way, and uses the last of his energy to wrestle the covers out from underneath the peacefully sleeping James before he slides into the bed. Spooning up behind James, he pulls the covers over them both and is asleep almost before he closes his eyes.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized after I wrote the spanking portion of this that it rather mirrors another (totally amazing) story in the fandom, but honestly. Wouldn't you take a crack at that if you had the opportunity?


	8. Chapter 8

Robbie can feel someone watching him as he swims toward consciousness. There’s a soft humming from very close by, and someone’s fingers are toying with his hair. He opens his eyes to see James gazing at him lovingly, completely at ease for the first time in a very long time. He smiles as James leans in to press a soft kiss to his mouth.

“Welcome back, Robbie,” James says softly. He whispers Robbie’s name with every lazy kiss they exchange, and it’s sweet. Robbie hadn’t realized just how much he’d missed hearing his name from James’ lips, and it’s such a relief that he’s helpless to prevent the tears that well up out of nowhere from falling. “What’s this?”

Robbie sniffs hard, but answers. “It’s just been a while since I heard my name in that glorious voice of yours. I didn’t realize how much I missed it,” he says just as quietly.

“I’m sorry,” James says, pulling Robbie closer so they’re belly to belly. “I… I needed to create a bit of distance, you see. When you got together with Laura….” He trails off. “You might not have noticed it, but she stiffened every time I used your name. Granted, for a long time I didn’t realize that I was interrupting you whenever she was trying to have you to herself for a moment.”

“Right cockblocker you were for a while there,” Robbie says with a smile. They share a laugh, but James sobers again.

“It took me a while to realize, but when I did I knew I needed to do something a bit different. Running away obviously hadn’t worked. All that time walking the Camino de Santiago taught me that. So I needed some small way to create just enough distance so that we could work together and be friends once more. It’s not like I could start calling you Lewis all the time, and sir was right out once we shared the same rank, so…. Robert seemed like the best compromise.” James reaches up to smooth away the tears from Robbie’s cheeks. 

“I’m sorry too. I’ve not said it, but I know we hurt you very badly when you came back from Kosovo. I didn’t know she was going to kiss me right there in the middle of the pub. I never would’ve broken the news that way. I never wanted to hurt you,” Robbie says, and he curls his hand around James’, bringing the back of it to his lips. “Will you let me tell you now what I was thinking at the time?”

James nods, slowly, and Robbie curses himself for the hint of remembered anguish he can see in James’ eyes. “I told you before that I wasn’t brave, and I meant it. You were foundering. The job was hurting you, and I could see you slipping away a little bit more every day. I wanted to reach out, but I couldn’t do it in the way I wanted. You were still my subordinate, and you were very vulnerable.” Robbie reaches out and brushes a finger over James’ cheek. “You feel so much. You’d be a great detective regardless, but when you use that pain and passion to get justice for the victims, you’re extraordinary.”

James blushes, a bit, and starts to protest but Robbie shushes him with a finger over his lips. James absently presses a kiss to it, but settles down to listen once more. Robbie continues. 

“But I’d painted myself into a corner by then, and I didn’t know what to do. I thought maybe retiring would be an answer, a way to gain enough space between us so I could be more of a friend than a superior officer to you. To do that, we needed to make a change. I thought retiring would be the way to go. I was tired, and I needed some time away from the job.

“I’d been thinking about it for quite a while. You know that. Ever since that trip to Italy with Lyn, remember?” James nods, solemn. “I thought I’d use the time while you were away volunteering, and yes I knew about that,” Robbie says as James snorts a soft laugh through his nose. “Honestly. Orphans in need?” He can’t help himself and leans down to press a kiss to those lovely lips. They lose themselves for a moment, trading lazy kisses, but Robbie pulls back again. He’s got to get through this now so they can move forward on the right foot. Together.

“I missed you. Laura and I kept meeting up for drinks or dinner, and she sort of blindsided me. We’d been on the edge of something for about forever, and spending time with her was familiar, in a way. All the same rules applied, courting Laura, as they had with Val.” Robbie sighs. “It was comfortable, and fun, and easy with Laura. I’m ashamed to say that I was terrified of losing you, but I didn’t know how to proceed down the unknown path, so I took the easy one.

“I’m sorry, James.” Robbie’s voice grows thick and his eyes fill again. “I’m so, so sorry I hurt you like that.”

“Shhh,” James says. “I forgive you, Robbie. And I understand.” He tucks Robbie’s head under his chin and Robbie gives in and lets the tears fall. James might forgive him, but Robbie’s not sure if he’ll ever forgive himself for his choices that set them all down this road together.

The tears don’t last for long, but Robbie’s exhausted afterward. He feels lighter though, and he’s soothed by the sound of James’ heart beating under his ear.

They lie like that for quite a while, just relishing the closenesss, when James speaks. “I need to apologise too.”

Robbie raises his head, confused. “What? No you don’t.”

James shakes his head. “I do. That last case was rough, and yes, the fact that you and Laura had gotten together while I was gone played a part in my subsequent decisions, but the way I left? I’m sorry for that. I, well, for lack of a better word? I… fled. I turned in my papers, and fucked off to the Continent with barely a goodbye.” James is quiet for a long time before he continues. “I was punishing you, I think. For not choosing me. By not keeping in touch, I knew you’d be worried, and a part of me was glad if that caused you pain. I’m really not proud of that.

“It was hard for me, and it took what felt like forever before I could think of you and Laura together, imagine seeing you happy with her. I needed time to work through all those feelings, so I could come back and try to be the best friend to both of you that I could be. I didn’t want my feelings to poison our friendships, and getting away was the only way to do that.” James sighs. “I could have handled it all better, more graciously. But it was the best I could do. I’m sorry it wasn’t enough.” He raises a hand and lovingly trails it down the side of Robbie’s face. “I needed to grow up a bit, and I’m sorry it took me so long to come back to you.

“Innocent once gave me some advice about our partnership. ‘There’s only one way to know’ she said. ‘Test it to destruction’. I wasn’t thinking about it at the time, but I must’ve taken that to heart. Because I did. I broke our bond.” James’ eyes are filling now. “Forgive me?”

“We broke our bond. Wasn’t just you, James. And of course I forgive you.” It’s Robbie’s turn to cradle James close, whispering comforting, nonsense things as his love finally lets go of all that pain and guilt and shame.

“We’re a right pair, aren’t we?” Robbie asks when James settles.

“We are. But I like that we’re a pair again. Partners.” James looks spent, but at peace for the first time in a very, very long time.

“I like that word,” Robbie says slowly, “But there’s one I think I like even better.”

“Boyfriend?” James wrinkles his nose. “It’s so, I don’t know. Trite maybe.”

Robbie thinks that really shouldn’t be so adorable. But he takes a deep breath anyway, and says what he knows is true in his heart. “How would you feel about ‘husband’?” James’ eyes go wide with shock and he blinks once, hard. “James Hathaway, will you marry me?” Robbie’s shaking as he reaches for James’ left hand, but he brushes a kiss over the back of his ring finger anyway. “You don’t have to answer me now, but I want you to know that I want to be with you. I want to come home to you every night, where I hope you’ll show me how to make dinner without burning it. To sleep beside you, whenever our respective jobs allow for it. To argue with you over the remote, or listen to you read to me from one of those ridiculously thick books on those shelves out in the living room. To discover what kind of new tricks you can show this old dog.” James is smiling now, eyes alight with joy, and this time he’s the one reaching out to lay a finger on Robbie’s lips to stop him from rambling.

“You’re sure?” James asks him.

“I’m sure,” Robbie says, smiling. “I don’t care where we live, or what we do. I just want to do it all with you.”

“Yes,” James says, low and sure. “We can work out all the details later, but when the time is right? I will take you as my lawfully wedded husband, Robbie Lewis, and be deliriously happy to do so.”

The kiss they share is sweeter than any that’s come before, and Robbie glories in the knowledge that they’ll only keep getting better from here.

“What a difference twenty-four hours can make,” James says when they take a break from snogging. “I got my kit off in front of a room mostly full of strangers. Tiny little Julie brought a killer to his knees. You nearly picked up another concussion, we slept together, and then we had the best sex of my life.” James grins. “And now I’m engaged to be married.”

“Hell of a day,” Robbie agrees. 

“You’re a hell of a man,” James says. “What do you think about cleaning up a bit? Think we can both fit in the shower?”

“Reckon we can give it a try,” Robbie says, and his heart picks up a bit at the thought of running his hands all over a soaking wet James. “Food too? I’m starving.”

“Indeed,” James says, leaning back over to kiss Robbie one more time before sliding out of bed. “Let’s go somewhere and celebrate. Nothing but the best for my Robbie.” He practically beams at Robbie, holding out a hand to help him out of bed.

“My James,” Robbie says fondly as he stands and pulls James close. Their stomachs growl in unison, and they break apart with a laugh.

“C’mon,” James says as he tugs Robbie towards the bathroom. “Oh, by the way. You wouldn’t happen to have kept the corset or stockings, would you?”

It takes Robbie a moment to understand. “Ah, sorry lad. You’re out of luck there. That was a one night only appearance as Doctor Frank-n-furter.”

“Pity,” James says as he turns on the water in the shower.

“You’re full of all sorts of surprises, aren’t you?” Robbie says as he caresses one of James’ still slightly reddened cheeks.

“First spanking, now lingerie. Maybe after lunch we should take your laptop to the couch and do a bit of shopping.”

The sound of James’ laughter ringing in the small space is an excellent way to announce the start of this new relationship, Robbie thinks, as one long, wet arm reaches out to gather him into the shower, pulling the curtain closed behind him, and drawing him forward into their shared future.


	9. Coda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This image popped into my head and it wouldn't go away. Thank you to Somniare for doing a quick beta on this bit. It made me giggle. I hope it makes you giggle too.

They're back in the station the day after, ready and willing to help with the paperwork on the Edwards case until one or the other of them catches a new case. Unbeknownst to Robbie, James brings the sketchbook with _those_ drawings in it to the station, to study further in case they wind up with some free time.

Study further, because James hadn't had much of a chance to do anything but leaf through the pages yesterday. Once Robbie had given him permission to take a peek, he'd carefully but rapidly turned the pages before he'd closed the sketchbook with a snap, tenderly set it out of the way, and then practically tackled Robbie to the couch.

Some of those cushions are never going to be the same again, but Robbie can't think of them without his lips curling into a _very_ satisfied smile.

They've sent Lizzie home. She'd been very glad to see them, but had also been looking a bit peaky, and Tony's apparently going all out for dinner. James waved her off early, saying he was positive she'd be working late again all too soon, and to go home and enjoy her _husband's_ company. She'd given both of them a squinty-eyed stare at James' peculiar emphasis on the word 'husband', but whatever she read in their faces? It made her smile. And, somewhat uncharacteristically, she'd given both men a peck on the cheek in thanks. "For sending me home," she'd said, but Robbie rather feels it was for a different reason entirely.

He and James have been playing it a bit fast and loose in the office today. Sneaky little touches where no one can see, for example. James had pressed him up against the shelves when he'd wandered into the storeroom, whispering delightfully filthy things in Robbie's ear and getting him worked into a hell of a state before pulling back with a wink and sauntering out with a new pack of post-it notes in hand.

Robbie had nearly had to take something else in hand to avoid embarrassing himself in the corridors, but thought about dead pigs and their head of government and in very short order it wasn't a problem anymore.

He did get his own back when he cornered James in the loo, and they return to James' office bit more rumpled than when they left.

Only to find Innocent standing at James' desk, about to open the sketchbook that James has quite ill-advisedly left out in plain view on his blotter.

"Ma'am!" they both say rather loudly, and she turns, startled.

"Good lord you startled me," she says.

"What can we help you with, ma'am?" James says even as he obviously checks his instinctive grab for the book. Robbie swallows hard, but does his best to keep his cool.

"I wanted to check in and see how you were doing after your adventure. No side effects from the sedative?"

"No, ma'am. I'm fine. It wore off very quickly." James says.

"Well, given the givens, I'd like you to see a counsellor. Even if it's only for one session. And no arguments," she adds as James opens his mouth to protest. "And you, Robbie? Hmm, I'd chastise you for not wearing a tie," she says as she comes closer to peer at his throat, "but those look terrible."

"Nothing a bit of time won't fix, ma'am," Robbie says. 

"Well, you're off the hook until those have healed," she says with a smile. "I also wanted to check in and tie up one final loose end on the case against Edwards. Thanks for bringing this in, Robbie," she says, gesturing to the book cradled in the crook of her elbow.

"Ah, ma'am. Surely that doesn't need to be included. I'm sure that there's plenty of other people's work that could be used if CPS deems it necessary," he says, starting to sweat.

"Don't be ridiculous, Robbie. Someone who isn't a part of the case needs to take a look at this to ensure we don't need to submit it as...." Innocent trails off as she cracks the book and takes a look at what's on the pages.

Robbie makes a strangled sort of noise.

James clenches his jaw hard, and stares at the opposite wall, but slowly turns as red as the tie he's wearing.

"Evidence," Innocent breathes out, eyes going wide as saucers.

The two men stand in agonised silence as their Chief Superintendent flips through the pages, slowly and methodically.

When she turns to a page James has bookmarked, Innocent licks her lips slowly, tilting her head to one side. James is the one making a strangled noise this time, and her head shoots up at the sound. The two men stare, speechless, as she turns nearly the colour of a beetroot.

She slams the sketchbook closed and in a much higher pitch than usual says, "Right. Nevermind. I'm sure CPS can get along without this, don't you? Though I will say you're much more, um, talented that I thought, Robbie." She shoves the book into Robbie's chest and eases past James, who's frozen in the doorway. They both inhale as her breasts brush his chest. "Not. One. Word, Hathaway."

"Yes ma'am," they chorus, as they turn to watch her stride away in a much more wobbly fashion than usual.

The two men stare at each other with wide eyes. Robbie breaks first, snickering like a schoolboy, and James immediately joins him in his mirth, collapsing against the door frame, his belly laugh turning heads out in the main room.

"I think we've done enough for the day, don't you?" James says as he finally gets himself back under control, taking the sketchbook from Robbie and tucking it firmly under his arm.

"I do. Home, James," Robbie says with a smile. "Let's go home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the fic! Comments are love, and every single one that lands in my inbox gives me all the feels. :)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Banner] Contour. Shadow. Highlight. Smudge.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6700345) by [Knowmefirst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knowmefirst/pseuds/Knowmefirst)




End file.
